To Warm a Frozen Soul
by Wynjamor
Summary: Yassen effects a successful rescue, but where does that leave him with the girl? Angst!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I disclaim all.

**To Warm a Frozen Soul**

**Chapter One**

* * *

Yassen Gregorovich was not a man given over to wild fancies. Nor was he easily disgusted. He was intimately acquainted with all aspects of the human condition; love, hate, anger, desperation, lust, madness… he'd used all to his advantage at one time or another. All except love, anyway. There wasn't much room for love in his world, unless you counted love of power and goods and that, in Yassen's opinion, was nothing more than avarice. Even what he himself felt as he held a perfectly-balanced weapon, the deep satisfaction in the way his body responded when he moved and fought, the fulfilment of orders given with certainty; all this didn't come close to what he imagined love to be. Neither the brief contentment to be found in women, those willing receptacles of pleasure he encountered all too seldom, none of it moved him the way he'd read men could be moved. 

He was Yassen Gregorovich, and he inhabited the middle ground, where thoughts were cool and calm, and reason ruled above fleeting passion. The extremes of behaviour were observed in others, but never in himself. He didn't need them…in fact, to give in to them could be suicide. On very, very rare occasions Yassen found himself reacting in a way he knew he shouldn't. When someone saved his life. When an attachment was made. When the noble character of a man earned his respect. Those were the times he wondered about such things as love.

Now he wondered, because now was one of those also-rare times when something stirred his disgust.

Peter Klunt was a businessman in the lowest sense of the word. His business consisted of blackmailing others, trafficking people, drug smuggling, and having people silenced. There was nothing pretty about what he did, and yet the man himself lived like a king. His mountainside mansion, nestled in the Alps, was populated with servants, artworks, cars, and a whole squad of bodyguards. Klunt was a powerful man, and Yassen's bosses wanted him alive.

Even so, Yassen had been sent to do business with him. There was a certain disc in existence, contents unknown, which Yassen must procure. Klunt's price was straightforward; 5 million dollars, and a gift of goodwill.

As Yassen stood on the driveway of Klunt's mansion, hands behind his back in a posture of perfect patience, he thought on his choice of gift, and it disgusted him. Klunt was not only known throughout the criminal underworld as powerful and dangerous; he was also known for his biggest vice. He liked girls.

Not women. The thought made Yassen's lip curl. Girls.

Yassen had sent one of his men to a high class brothel to ask for a suitable female. She must be blonde, inexperienced. Young. Yassen had specified, to ease what remained of his own conscience, that she was not to be too young. Simply inexperienced would suffice. Now, a dark car pulled up to his feet, and he opened the back door. The Madame had sent her assurances all his physical requests would be fulfilled, and despite his overlying sense of revulsion at being party to the fate of the girl, he saw that her Madame had chosen well.

She was young, perhaps 16, with wide blue eyes and long blonde hair. A slender, tanned frame was revealingly covered with a light blue dress. She had curves in all the right places, he saw, and an expression of eager nervousness. She stepped delicately from the back of the car and smiled up at him.

"Mr. Klunt?" Her voice was accented German. Yassen would have placed her as being East European, perhaps even Russian. She had taken on a relaxed and slightly guileless pose; head and shoulders back, one tanned leg in front of the other showing off a sleek calf and thigh. An air of repressed anxiety pervaded her. Yassen smiled coldly, in a half-hearted effort to put her at ease. She was exactly what Peter Klunt enjoyed. He was an experienced teacher.

"No" Yassen said at length, and the girl visibly deflated. "You will follow me"

He crossed the porch and opened the large front door of the mansion, ushering the young girl through. She murmured thanks as she crossed the threshold beneath his outstretched arm. Yassen noticed her toned muscles beneath the dress, her graceful poise, and his revulsion rose again as he thought that in a mere few hours' time she would be sharing the bed of Peter Klunt.

The girl's heels rang out on the polished marble floor of the hallway. Yassen walked by her side, checking his long strides so she could keep up. They walked through a large archway flanked by men with machine-guns, whose eyes followed the girl with interest. Yassen said nothing; men were men.

The room opened out into a large living area, the walls and floor of the same pink marble. Grecian columns supported the ceiling, from which a crystal chandelier hung. The floor was dotted with animal skins, art hung on the wall, every picture showing a nude or scantily-clad woman in various poses. Three large sofas stood in the centre of the room around a massive fireplace, and behind the sofas more bodyguards stood at ease. Yassen pushed the girl with his fingertips in the middle of her back, against the silk of her dress, round to the front of the sofas where they faced an audience of three men.

Peter Klunt reclined on the sofa to the left, huge body propped up by silk pillows. He was almost grossly obese, an expensive Chinese robe draping his bulky frame. Chins quivered as he raised his head and put on an expression of delighted surprised. His associate Mr. Frank sat on the middle sofa in an expensive suit. Yassen's own man, David Jones, sat next to Mr. Frank. A vintage bottle of wine stood on the coffee table, with five glasses. Yassen nodded to Klunt and pushed the girl towards him.

"Your gift of goodwill" he said, and sat down on the right-hand sofa.

The girl tottered uncertainly over to Klunt, who reached out for her, taking her by the waist and looking her up and down.

"Ahh…lovely" he exclaimed. "You have good taste Yassen"

Yassen sniffed. His taste had nothing to do with it.

"Sit, sit down my dear! What is your name?"

The girl perched on the arm of the sofa Klunt patted, next to his head. The huge man levered himself into a more upright position and draped an arm around her hips.

"Clara" the girl said. She looked nervous but eager to please, leaning into Klunt and gazing around the room in wonder.

"You like my house?" Klunt laughed, seeing her expression. "I will give you a tour tomorrow. Get the girl some wine" he said to Mr. Frank, who poured a glass and handed it to her. The girl sipped.

"Mmm" she said, voice slightly sultry, and Klunt laughed in delight.

"How old are you my pretty?" he said while the others looked on.

"16 last week" Clara said. She was smiling at Klunt, seemingly marvelling at his expensive dress and the rings on the fingers of the hand which was stroking her thigh. Yassen exchanged a look with David Jones, who shrugged almost imperceptibly. Jones was British, the man who had drawn up and facilitated this deal. He worked for the same people as Yassen, and it was not the first time the two had come across each other in the course of their work. Jones was a middle-aged, refined gentleman, the epitome of discretion. He would never comment on Klunt's extravagant and often illegal tastes.

"I like 16" Klunt said. "It is a good age" He looked to Yassen and Jones. "Now, I think we can talk business. Do you have the money?"

Whilst the men talked business, Clara sipped at her wine and looked around the massive room. This wasn't what she'd expected, although it was difficult to say what she had expected… she wondered if girls from the brothel normally got to visit such palaces.

The tall man who had met her at the door stayed mostly silent during the exchange, whilst the Englishman did most of the talking. Klunt's associate did the deal from his side, whilst Klunt bestowed adoring glances on her and passed her bits of fruit from a small bowl on a cushion next to him. He seemed to enjoy watching her eat. He really was grotesque, she thought idly as she studied him. So fat he probably _had_ to wear robes, with broken red veins snaking his face and neck, and gold rings digging into his chubby fingers.

* * *

It was almost half an hour before the men finished their talking, money was shown, and a disc was passed across the table from Klunt's associate to Mr. Jones. 

"A pleasure doing business with you" the Englishman said.

"And you" Klunt motioned to his bodyguards, two of whom stepped forwards from behind the sofas to help him to his feet. Clara had to make an effort to keep her balance as the arm on her waist pulled roughly away as the fat man struggled up. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, drawing her close. She could smell the sweat of a fat man and plastered a silly smile on her face so she wouldn't wrinkle her nostrils in disgust.

"I am going to enjoy my present" he pinched Clara, who giggled. "Please, stay and eat, drink, make yourselves at home."

"We will be going soon" Yassen said, also standing. He gazed at Klunt across the coffee table, taller than the huge man by at least six inches. The girl pressed herself against him, and Yassen couldn't quite keep the distaste from his face.

"Suit yourself" Klunt smirked. "Mr. Frank will show you out" He waved a pudgy hand and Mr. Frank stood up, with Jones getting to his feet slowly, making the gesture look infinitely polite.

Klunt waddled from the room, Clara in tow, passing underneath the archway and turning right into a long corridor along which his bedroom was situated. Yassen looked from Mr. Frank to Jones, and back again.

"I'm going to go and check our goods" Jones said in cultured English.

"Yes" Yassen said. "I will stay here until you are done"

He locked eyes with Mr. Frank, who shrugged and reached for the wine. "Will you join me Mr. Gregorovich?"

Yassen sat back down. "No"

* * *

In Peter Klunt's garish bedroom stood an enormous circular bed, draped in silk sheets and cushions. Clara, entering the room first, took one look at it and froze. Klunt pushed her gently on the rear. 

"Go on my sweet, do not be afraid. It is very comfortable"

Clara stepped into the room and turned to smile at Klunt. "It's so big!" she gasped. "I've never seen a bed like it before!"

Klunt smiled, jowls jiggling. "It was made especially for me. Now, why don't you come and try it out?"

He was moving towards the bed, but before he could laboriously lower himself onto it, Clara spied a door to the left and tottered over to it, her high heels sinking into the plush pink carpet.

"Is this the bathroom?" she asked.

"Oh, yes!" Klunt brightened and waddled over. "Come and see!"

The bathroom was a pale marble wetroom, with an enormous sunken tub in the middle of the floor. Twin sinks stood against one wall beneath a huge mirror, and the wall opposite the door was also completely mirrored. Clara wondered if it was a one-way mirror, but decided it wasn't. Klunt was debased, but she'd never heard that he went in for voyeurism. Not when he'd be one of the actors, anyway.

"It's wonderful" she said, and Klunt put an arm around her. "Why don't we take a bath?"

Klunt squeezed her hard. "Splendid idea my pretty! My, Yassen made a good choice with you!"

He pressed a button on the wall, and the tub began to fill up. "Watch this!" he said, and pressed another button. A large circular disc on the ceiling, which Clara had taken to be some sort of light or vent, suddenly fountained water straight down into the tub.

"A shower!" she exclaimed.

"Now…" Klunt leaned down and breathed in her ear. "Why don't you slip out of that dress and get in the tub?"

His breath smelled of wine and was sweet from the delicacies he'd been eating. Clara smiled mischievously, and a little flutter of nervousness crossed her features.

"If you do too…" she said, looking coy.

Klunt smiled indulgently and undid his robe. He let it drop to the floor, revealing wave upon wave of fat and loose skin. Clara's gorge rose, but she forced away the urge to screw her eyes shut. The enormous man slowly and carefully stepped down into the tub, displacing water which washed over the sides and wetted the floor. He said something she didn't catch over the roar of the shower, but when he turned to look at her she saw the expectation in his face. He was waiting for her to join him.

She unzipped her dress and let it fall, stepped out of her heels and padded to the edge of the tub. When she stepped in she kept one hand slightly behind her back as if for balance. Klunt reached for her immediately, eyes fixed on her body. He never saw the needle-thin stiletto in her hand, and his pained grunt as it pierced his heart was lost below the noisy cascade of the shower.

* * *

Back in the expansive living room, Yassen and Mr. Frank were enjoying a stony silence. A few bodyguards still stood around, but the rest had disappeared. When Yassen commented on Klunt's lack of fear of himself, Frank laughed. 

"Mr. Gregorovich, they have not left because they do not think you a threat. They have left because there is a camera in Peter Klunt's bedroom"

Yassen raised an eyebrow and Frank laughed harder.

For the second time that night the tall Russian found himself contemplating the human condition. He would be glad when he was out of the mansion, handing the disc over to the people he worked for. The fate of the girl was not his to think about, and he decided not to dwell on it.

Shortly, Mr. Jones returned, flanked by a worried-looking bodyguard. Jones, tense and flushed, had obviously been having words with the man.

"Mr. Frank…" the guard began.

"Yassen!" Jones interrupted loudly. "This disc…" he held up the small circle in its plastic case. "It's not right"

Mr. Frank leapt to his feet, as did Yassen, the latter reaching for his sidearm. Three machine guns fixed on him with loud clicks.

"What do you mean, not right?" Yassen said coldly.

"It's full of empty directories...there's nothing on it, just blank data"

"How do you know it's not what you're looking for?" Mr. Frank said, smirking. "You wanted that disc and we arranged a price. It is not our fault it is not useful to you"

Mr. Jones' glare darkened. "Sir, I know exactly what was meant to be on this disc, and I can tell you this is not what I asked for. Get me Klunt, now"

"And what will you do if I just ask you to leave?" Frank raised an eyebrow.

"You do not wish to ask us to leave" Yassen said quietly. It was perhaps a testament to his reputation that, even covered by three guards and no obvious way to turn the situation to his advantage should it come to a fire-fight, Mr. Frank paled.

"Klunt will be busy now…" he stammered.

"I do not care" Yassen snapped. "You said there was a camera in his room. See if he is busy. Interrupt him anyway"

Mr. Frank hurried from the room and Yassen and the Englishman followed, flanked by the guards. They entered a nearby anteroom in which several more guards were clustered around a monitor looking bored.

"Mr. Klunt" Franks started. "Is he…?"

The nearest guard sighed. "Went into the bathroom twenty minutes ago. Hasn't come out yet"

"Oh" Franks looked at Yassen and Jones. Yassen went to the monitor and pushed a few guards out of the way. In grainy black and white Klunt's room could be seen, the camera looking down from ceiling-level. The door to the bathroom was just visible at the edge of the image. There was no activity; the place looked deserted. An odd rushing noise could be heard, and Yassen looked at Franks.

"What is that noise?"

"The shower" A guard informed him. "Must be taking a bath"

A few laughs greeted this, and some lewd comments. Yassen scowled. "This is not right" he said.

Pushing past the guards once again, he stalked from the room towards Klunt's bedroom. Mr. Franks rushed to keep up, as did Jones. The single guard who had accompanied Jones back into the mansion followed them, with the rest looking on curiously. Without any orders to follow, however, they remained where they were.

* * *

Yassen pounded on the heavy wooden door. There was no reply, so he forced it open. 

"Now wait a minute…" Franks said, but was pushed into the room by Yassen before he could protest further. Yassen followed him and glanced round, then strode over to the bathroom. The sound of the shower was loud inside the room, and with growing anger and a feeling of unease, the Russian pushed open the bathroom door and peered in.

The room was full of steam, but through it all Yassen could see a large shape walling in the tub.

"Mr. Klunt!" he snapped, angry at the thought that he might have to see the fat man naked, or even worse, copulating with the girl. The shape, however, just wallowed.

Mr. Jones was by his side. "I think he's dead old chap" he said.

The steam was clearing slightly as Franks had started the air conditioning, and Yassen could now see that the bathwater was red. Peter Klunt rested face up, too heavy to float but with the side of the pool supporting his body.

Yassen looked around for the girl. A pair of blue heels stood forlornly by the side of the pool. A dark gap high up in the wall yawned, below it on the floor the metal grill which had once covered it.

"Where does that go!" Yassen shouted, anger boiling to the surface. He pointed at the vent and grabbed a terrified Mr. Franks, who just shook his head and mumbled,

"The disc…"

"Oh my…" Mr. Jones breathed from by the tub. He was holding up Klunt's left arm distastefully, revealing a long gash in the flap of skin below it. "I wonder, did he keep the real disc here?"

Yassen glared at Mr. Franks, who was stammering…

"I didn't know… really…"

"Where…does…that…vent….go?" Yassen enunciated, his voice a hiss.

"All over the house…" Franks managed.

Yassen let go of the smaller man, took a step back, pulled his gun and fired. Mr. Franks fell to the floor, and he turned to the guard who had stopped in the doorway.

"I want this place searched" he commanded. "You know what the girl looks like. Find her"

He turned to Mr. Jones, who was still looking at Klunt's body curiously.

"Well old man" Jones said, "It's all rather gone to shit, hasn't it?"

* * *

A/N: Please review! 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**

* * *

**

Kalina Moon breathlessly kicked open the air vent, wincing as the metal grille crashed to the concrete floor of the underground garage. She slid to the floor and crouched, surveying the choice of cars. Peter Klunt had been an enthusiastic collector. She chose a sleek Jaguar in the shadow of a pillar and ran over to it, taking just a few minutes to get in and disable the alarm.

Her heart was pounding from the adrenalin rush, and she took a deep breath to calm herself as she started the engine. Her shoulder throbbed where she'd scraped it on the inside of the vent falling down a drop from the ground floor to the basement. Her blonde hair was wet, and her damp dress was clinging uncomfortably to her skin. The fake tan she'd liberally applied earlier that day had started to run because of the water, and Kalina knew wherever she stopped, she'd have to clean up considerably before moving on.

First, she had to get out.

Gently gunning the engine, she rolled the car across the floor towards the exit. The door was up, and since no-one had run into the garage to kill her, she decided the alarm hadn't been raised.

_Not yet, anyway._

Thinking Klunt's room was probably bugged, the best place to kill him was the bathroom. She'd suggested taking a bath so that she could wash off the blood afterwards. And the shower had been a brilliant stroke by Klunt; it covered any noise of a struggle. Kalina saw her grim smile in the rear-view mirror. Tonight had gone exceptionally well. Never in a million years had she thought she could sneak a job beneath the nose of Yassen Gregorovich.

She'd never before met the man, but every assassin the world over had heard of him. He was the best.

_I'm just lucky_ Kalina reflected, _he wasn't out to kill me._

As she slowly manoeuvred the car out of the driveway and onto the mountain road, she looked back at the mansion. All was still quiet. A figure ran across the porch, followed by a guard with arms outstretched placatingly.

_Now it begins…_ Kalina thought, and put her foot down.

Her bosses had wanted the information on the disc. Klunt had even agreed to sell it to them, only they couldn't afford the price. Or didn't want to pay. Kalina had no idea who they were, only that they were paying her well to recover the disc. Klunt had told her employers that he was selling to Gregorovich and Jones, but that he would give them a dummy disc, encrypted so that they wouldn't realise it wasn't the real thing until it was too late. The information, he said, was kept as close to him as possible.

It didn't take a great leap of the imagination to rule out certain hiding places. There was only one truly safe place to keep something that valuable. Most people would hide it on their person, only Peter Klunt didn't have pockets.

Kalina shuddered as she remembered him touching her. She glanced down at herself in disgust. She hadn't felt comfortable acting the whore; it wasn't in her nature to wear such clothes and act in such a way, but it had been necessary. And it had worked. Cutting Klunt open and recovering the disc had almost made her sick.

Now Clara the prostitute needed to disappear. There was a motel nearby where Kalina already had a room. She would dump the car, pick up another and go to the motel. After a shower, some hair dye and different clothes, she'd be unrecognisable. In two days' time she would meet with her employers and hand over the disc.

* * *

On reaching the bottom of the winding road, Kalina drove away from town. Hiding a car just inside the woods a few days earlier had been simple, if it was still there. With her headlights off it was difficult to see, but when she reached the approximate place she pulled into the trees and turned off the engine of the Jaguar, getting out to search.

Just when she was thinking she should have left an obvious marker, a glint of moonlight on glass caught her eye and she removed the pile of brush from the small European car. In the boot was a bag of clothes, which she quickly donned, shivering against the cold night air. A high-necked sweatshirt, jeans and a cap covered her tan-streaked skin, and she pulled her hair into a rough ponytail, then got into the car, slowly made the road, put the lights on full and headed back towards town and the motel.

* * *

A search of the mansion proving fruitless, Yassen realised the girl must have left before the exits could be covered. That meant she could be miles away.

He thumped a pillar in anger. _How could I let this happen? She was a prostitute! She was 16!_

Thinking about it, both those things may not have been true.

"Parker!" he shouted, and a young man of his retinue, who acted as his helicopter pilot, hurried over.

"Yes sir?"

"Which brothel did you find her at?"

"The Red Lion House sir" Parker replied, looking suitably meek.

"Take Jones there. See if they know anything. You!"

One of Klunt's guards stopped mid-stride.

"Get me the video of Klunt's bedroom. I want to see that girl"

Five minutes later he had a printout of the girl from the grainy video feed. She was facing towards the camera… towards Klunt as he spoke to her. She was smiling guilelessly. It made Yassen sick to think he was looking at the face of someone who had foiled him. A _girl_ who had foiled him, who only an hour before he had felt sorry for as he handed her over to Klunt. It struck him that perhaps there was some justice in what had happened.

He would have to tell his superiors, and they would not be pleased.

"No matter…" he whispered to himself. "I shall find her"

_She will regret crossing me…_

* * *

In the grimy motel bedroom Kalina, after checking that the door was locked and doing a sweep of the room for bugs, out of habit, not because she thought there were any, stripped and stepped under a steaming shower.

Fake tan swirled brownly down the plughole. She had bleached her hair, eyebrows, even her eyelashes, and now painstakingly dyed them back to their natural dark colour, sitting on the toilet lid for the twenty minutes the dye took to adhere. Finally, after a long scrub to erase the memory of chubby fingers, she removed to the bedroom and placed a phonecall.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end was pleasant.

"Hello. I caught the rabbit" she said simply.

"Ah, good. I shall make the necessary arrangements. The fox?"

"Taken care of"

"Very well. Await another call"

The line went dead.

Now all Kalina had to do was wait for instructions on the time and place of the drop. She thought back over the events of that evening, searching for anything which could lead to herself. The car, left in the woods in the opposite direction, no witnesses to the changeover of vehicle, no-one who had seen her both dark-haired and blonde. The motel manager had handed her the key the day before and she hadn't seen him since. Everything had gone according to plan.

Something still niggled though. She knew what it was; Yassen Gregorovich. She'd finally seen the man face to face, although it could hardly be called a meeting since she'd been a whore and he'd practically ignored her. He was the assassin others tried to live up to, and although Kalina grinned at the thought of getting one over on him, there was a nasty thought that just wouldn't go away:

_No-one ever gets one over on Yassen Gregorovich._

Even when she'd been offered the mission, she'd been reluctant.

"Gregorovich? Are you sure?" she had said.

"You'll have no contact with him. He just happens to be there" came the reply.

It seemed like a foolproof plan, and the money had pushed her into it, but still…

_Yassen Gregorovich…_her mind kept saying. _He won't be happy…_

That night, Kalina was very much unable to sleep.

* * *

It was just after midnight. Mr. Jones had returned from the Red Lion House and was waiting to speak with Yassen. Yassen, still seething inside but calmly planning, was coming from the security office of the mansion, where he had just seen CCTV footage of the girl Clara stealing a car from the underground garage. He entered the hallway of the mansion and saw Mr. Jones.

"Find anything?" he said. Jones shook his head.

"No. Well, there was a prostitute tied up and locked in a cupboard, but that was all"

"What do you mean?"

Yassen motioned him out the door and the two men began to cross the driveway towards a helicopter landing pad on which Gregorovich's black chopper stood, pilot getting ready inside.

"Well, it seems the girl the Madame sent here wasn't the one that made it here. Clara ambushed her, tied her up and took her place. The Madame found her only a short while ago, she was very distressed"

"I see" Yassen said. "Did anyone see the girl?"

"No. Where are we going?"

"She stole a Jaguar" Yassen explained. "We are going to find it"

They climbed into the chopper and lifted off. Jones struggled into his headset.

"She'll be miles away by now"

"No" Yassen said. "She will know we are looking for her. She will dump the car"

Jones made an "ahhh" sound.

"Oh, I took the liberty of calling our bosses" he said. Yassen looked at him expectantly. Jones smiled.

"They aren't too happy, as you can imagine. Klunt was far too useful to be killed just now. They say you're to get the disc, no matter the cost."

"What about you?" Yassen asked.

Jones shrugged, then grabbed the door handle as the chopper banked sharply.

"I'm not really needed any more old man"

It crossed Yassen's mind to push him out of the helicopter. Jones must have seen the glint in his eye.

"Don't go getting ideas now" he said quickly. "You can just drop me off…I mean, set me down, when we get back. If we're going back that is… Hum…"

Yassen was already ignoring him, keen eyes scanning the dark forest below. He turned on the infra-red sight and used it to see the ground. They hadn't gone more than five miles when he spotted an abandoned car.

"There" he pointed for the benefit of the pilot. "Land"

* * *

The car was cold. That meant nothing, it had only been driven a few miles, and that was almost two hours ago. The interesting things were the tyre tracks that didn't belong to it. They led from a shallow ditch to the road, and angled back towards town. Unless Clara had taken the trouble to lay those tracks and then perform a u-turn, town was where she was headed.

Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing what kind of car she was driving.

"Bit of a bugger this" the Englishmen broke the quiet of the night air. It was chilly, and he rubbed his arms to warm himself. Yassen was also cold, but controlled the urge to shiver.

"We have her picture. I will send it to our employers, they can afford us men to watch for her"

"Is that it?" Jones said.

"We can do no more" Yassen said. He sighed almost imperceptibly. There were very few times in his career when he'd been at such a loss. Normally he knew exactly what to do, and did it. Assassinations were simple affairs; you learnt someone's movements, the layout of their house perhaps, and you killed them. Of course, sometimes someone walked in halfway through, or there were surveillance cameras to take care of, or an exit was locked when it should have been open, but never had Yassen completely lost his grasp of a mission.

The trail had gone cold.

"We will return to the house" he decided out loud. "And send the picture. Come"

Jones followed him back to the chopper, and a few minutes later they were landing back outside the ill-fated mansion.

* * *

Even as he stepped down onto the landing pad, Yassen knew that something was wrong. It was too quiet, too still. He'd been around enough dead-zones to know what one felt like. Shouldering a machine gun from the chopper and motioning the others to stay where they were, he advanced across the driveway. If the enemy were still there, he'd be dead by now. No-one could have missed a helicopter landing. Yassen had no doubts whatsoever that there was an enemy, but he couldn't think who.

The girl wouldn't have come back and killed everyone. Not a dozen armed men.

Signs of a fire-fight were visible on the porch. Bullet holes in the wall. A picture window next to the door was shattered. Inside, there was blood everywhere. Bodies. Furniture had been upturned. Not a living soul breathed.

Yassen turned over a body with his foot. It wasn't one of Klunt's. The man wore a navy uniform of some sort. He looked Arabic.

_Someone else then…_ Yassen thought.

_Could it be possible that someone else wanted the disc? What else did Klunt have that would get his home rifled like this and his men killed? Someone must have known about the deal tonight… but who? Who would come to kill me for it?_

If someone knew about the deal, they must have known that Gregorovich was taking part. Something terrible dawned on him, and he ran back out to the helicopter.

"Jones!"

He dragged the Englishman from the chopper and grabbed the shorter man's arm before he had a chance to pull his gun.

"You know of this. Tell me!"

"Know what? What's going on? Please…"

Yassen forced the man to his knees and pressed a gun to the side of his head.

"Do not lie"

Jones shut his eyes and his eyeballs flickered beneath the lids. He was processing his options.

"Let me live and I'll tell you" he said at length. Yassen nodded. Information was more important than killing the man out of anger, and the Russian was a man of his word.

"Patel" Jones said. "He's a ganglord…he wants the disc too. He was going to take it tonight but…"

"The girl" Yassen finished. "The call you made earlier…"

"To Patel"

So Jones hadn't called their employers. They didn't know everything had gone wrong.

"Patel would defy _me_?" Yassen asked, a note of disbelief in his voice. Jones nodded tentatively, flinching at the cool metal pressing into his temple.

"You haven't met him" he explained. "That's why I had to tell him it was tonight… the man is a monster"

"_I_ am a monster" Yassen said coldly. Jones shivered.

"Not like him. Old chap… you don't want to cross him. Just stay out of this. It's not worth it…" Seeing Yassen's look he continued. "I'm not just saying this Gregorovich. We've been through some things together, you and I… believe me, leave this one be. Let Patel find the girl…"

Yassen recoiled in realisation. Patel would know about the girl. He might even have seen the same footage of her from the CCTV that Yassen had. Patel would know what she looked like.

"Shit!" he swore. "But… he will not know where she is…"

Jones shrugged. "He'll be looking"

_Then I must look too_ Yassen thought.

He pistol-whipped Jones before the man could say anything else, and left him lying unconscious on the landing pad. Instructing his pilot to take them to a safe-house he kept outside the city, Yassen thought as hard as he ever had what the hell to do next.

* * *

A/N: I know there are hardly any Yassen fics, and from the number of hits i've been getting i assume they're not very popular, so please review if you're one of the few people tempted enough by Gregorovich to have got this far!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Kalina awoke mid-morning, not rested and very hungry. She'd spent half the night tossing and turning, unable to get Gregorovich out of her mind.

_I should have known it'd be like this_ she bemoaned. Even though she knew she was safe, that she'd done everything to disappear and that chances of being found were slim, she couldn't escape the fact that Gregorovich would be trying to find her. That thought made her uncomfortable.

Kalina wasn't a novice. She'd worked for various people for several years, since she was just 17, although she hadn't moved onto dangerous missions until she was almost 20, and now she was 21. At first, it was just delivering packages for her uncle, who she went to live with in Italy from England after her parents' divorce when she was 16. Her uncle was some sort of businessman, she never really found out what, but when he was killed a month before her 20th birthday she'd realised it was serious. With no-one to support her, parents she never spoke to, and a whole network of contacts in her uncle's circle, a good way to make money was to put her slowly-learnt skills into action. She'd become a jack-of-all-trades; thief, decoy, spy, undercover agent. She'd only worked for government once, as an intelligence operative, and they'd been happy to let her under their radar in return. It was good money, and it beat a nine to five.

She didn't like killing, but sometimes it was necessary. Something she'd come to realise was that people would do anything for money, even her. She would kill if the price was right.

She dressed carefully in front of the mirror. Combat trousers, training shoes, a khaki vest and fashionable jacket. With a pair of large sunglasses and hair brushed to a smooth shine, she looked like any normal young woman about town, which was where she was headed for lunch. The small pistol at her ankle was invisible, and she only carried it just in case. After a long debate as to where to put the disc, she decided to take it with her. If the motel room was rifled she'd have no excuse, at least if the disc was on her she could drop it somewhere if she ran into trouble. She slipped it into a pocket of her trousers.

As she stepped out into the cool morning sunshine, she was completely oblivious to the forces mounting against her.

* * *

Patel – who had no other name – had spent much of his life in South America, away from the authorities. There, in the jungle and the backstreets, he'd been a ruthless killer, thief and ganglord. He worked for himself, always had. He'd proved himself an enthusiastic killer.

With none of the poise of a professional assassin, Patel would be known among assassins as a murderer, someone to be disdained for creating a mess. He didn't sneak away in the darkness without a trace; he shouted his crimes from the rooftops and then bribed the relevant authorities. Already in Eastern Europe, the police were in his grip.

If he'd been more subtle, more skilful, Gregorovich would have heard of him, maybe appreciated his work and looked to him as a possible ally or enemy of the future. Because he was so brash, however, Patel had been ignored by Scorpio and most other organisations. His own interests, which were all he cared about, rarely clashed with those of larger establishments. Until now.

Now he wanted the disc, and as far as he knew, Gregorovich wanted it too. He had heard of the Russian and killing him filled him with a grim excitement. Patel would very much like to pull the trigger himself. As for the girl, she was a nuisance, but she must be found. Patel decided that following Gregorovich to her wasn't an option; the man would realise straightaway. He would have to find the girl independently. He circulated her picture amongst the local police and officials. All airlines, ports and toll bridges were watched within a few hours of Patel's attack on Klunt's mansion. Police in the streets knew there was a reward if they spotted her, and a punishment if they were wrong. Anyone seeing Gregorovich was also to report, but to leave the man alone. Patel himself occupied a penthouse suite in a central hotel in the city, where CCTV feeds from official buildings across town had been routed, knowing that it was only a matter of time.

* * *

Yassen spent much of the night researching Patel. With only a single name to go on he'd expected nothing, but information trickled steadily through from Scorpio, who he'd called on reaching the safe house. Surprised at losing the disc, Klunt's double-crossing, and Mr. Jones' betrayal, they had charged Gregorovich with recovering the disc and killing Patel if necessary.

The files on Patel were all the same. He'd beenencountered by Scorpio agents on a number of occasions, always on the periphery so not a lot was known about him. A minor gang leader, selfish, brutal, he seemed to enjoy killing for killing's sake. Gregorovich thought the man a danger, not because of his skill but because of his bloody-mindedness. He didn't seem to care who he hurt to get what he wanted; there were stories of women and children murdered in their beds. Patel had none of an assassin's pride.

Based on what the files said, Yassen thought there was a good chance the authorities were on his side. With no leads of his own, he decided to find Patel, and let the man's superior resources lead them both to the girl.

He asked Scorpio to monitor calls within the city in an effort to find out where Patel was. After a few hour's sleep, hungry and restless, he drove into town. Patel was most likely in the city where there was more to do; he seemed to favour official quarters, and when the phonecall came from Scorpio detailing his location, Yassen wanted to be on hand to react.

* * *

He parked underground and took a flight of stairs out into the daylight. It was nearing noon; the streets were relatively quiet before the lunchtime rush, and pavement café's were just setting out tables for business. He walked for a little while, then chose an expensive-looking café and sat outside, ordering coffee. Only a few other customers were there; an elderly couple, and two young women, one in a smart suit and one dressed casually. The suited woman spoke quietly in German on a mobile phone, whilst the other sipped an orange juice and read a newspaper.

Yassen sighed. He was good at waiting, he'd been _trained_ to wait. He could wait all day if he had to, all _week_. That didn't stop the sigh from escaping. The sigh was for his bungled mission, the new threat in Patel. Unforeseen circumstances were not an assassin's friend.

After his coffee he ordered lunch, and ate it slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. The businesswoman left, and another elderly couple sat down. Yassen's phone remained silent. He finished lunch and ordered another drink, wondering about going for a walk by the river, perhaps feeding the ducks…

The sun went behind a cloud, and the woman reading the newspaper took her sunglasses off.

Yassen froze, coffee cup halfway to his mouth.

_Her!_

* * *

A/N: Not many readers for the first two chapters... i think there should be some sort of 'Gregorovich is interesting really' campaign. Thank you for reading this far anyway, there's lots more to come. Please review and make me feel better about the lack of hits...!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

The girl from the night before sat four tables away, facing across him. She hadn't even noticed him; there was no reason to look his way, the street was in front of her and he wasn't. She looked completely different; her hair had gone from blonde to dark, she no longer looked an innocent 16 but more like a confident 20, and her limbs were fully covered without even a hint of flesh showing. Free of make-up and peerage-white, her skin was fresh and delicate with none of the sun-bronzed inviting glow of the night before. If it wasn't for those eyes he would never have recognised her, but those eyes had struck him on first seeing her and they struck him again now.

She sipped her juice, smiled slightly at an amusing story in the paper, completely oblivious to his gaze.

He rose smoothly to his feet and walked over to her table, pulled out a chair, sat down.

The woman looked up, eyebrow raised in a look that invited no strangers, and jumped as if electrocuted.

"I wouldn't go anywhere, if I were you" Yassen said softly, grabbing her hand which had been resting on the table. He leaned forwards as shesank back into her chair; he could feel how tense her muscles were, see it in her whole posture.

"Let us talk" Yassen said. "Since fate has brought us together"

"How did you…?" the woman began, trying uselessly to pull her hand away. Yassen kept his firmly on top of hers. It was a gesture which would seem like that of a friend or lover to anyone who looked.

"Chance" he said. "I came here for coffee" A cold smile graced his lips. The woman looked incredulous, but relaxed her arm and studied him warily.

"Carla" he said, seeing her wince at the name and knowing it wasn't her real one. "You have something of mine"

Kalina, heart pounding, keeping her expression schooled through only the highest of efforts, was both devastated and terrified by Gregorovich's appearance.

_Not real not real not real…._ She repeated in her head, knowing with every second that passed that her worst nightmare had come true. The tall Russian was sat right across from her, holding her hand. His fingers were cool and strong. So far however, he hadn't killed her and that, she decided, was something.

"It isn't yours" she said slowly. Yassen tightened his grip.

"Would you really like to dispute that?"

_Thinking about it, No. _Kalina decided. Yassen laughed softly when he saw as much in her face. He was studying her with calculating eyes, making her uncomfortable even as she studied him in return.

"Last night… you were clever" he said, leaning back slightly as if his study of her were complete. "You tricked us all. I admire that. But I must have the disc"

Slightly surprised by his non-threatening tone and the fact that she was still alive, Kalina decided to take the opportunity to talk to the man she'd heard so much about.

"I've heard of you" she said. "You're supposed to be the best"

Gregorovich shrugged. "I am very good. I have _not_ heard of you"

Kalina shrugged too. "I try not to cause a scene"

Yassen was reminded of Patel, and looked about him. The street was still quiet. Two police officers came round the corner at one end, a long way away but coming leisurely towards the café and the table where they sat.

He turned back to the woman. "Enough small talk. Give me the disc and I won't kill you"

"You'd kill me in the street?" Kalina asked, raising an eyebrow in pointed disbelief. Inside she was still scared, but some proud part of her made her play the role of unconcerned innocent.

"If I have to" Yassen hissed. The policemen were coming closer. One of them looked their way, paused in his stride but kept walking, nudged his colleague and reached for his radio. The colleague looked over.

Yassen swore in Russian and stood up, dragging the woman with him. She stumbled around the table as he pulled her off the terrace, shouting a garbled question at him before he yanked her into a run down the cobbled street.

* * *

Kalina glanced back over her shoulder as her feet flew beneath her, to see two police officers chasing. She gasped a curse and looked at Gregorovich, who was running with a look of grim determination. Suddenly, he pulled her into a side-street, holding her hand like that of an infant, his grip so tight that if she'd stopped he'd probably have dragged her. A six foot wall blocked the end, and without slackening his pace the Russian scaled it in a leap. Kalina, several inches shorter, grabbed the top with her free hand, thankful when Gregorovich released her other one, surprised when he reached down and grabbed her round the waist, pulling her over the wall and dropping her on the other side.

She landed with an 'Oof!" but the Russian was beside her in an instant, reclaiming her hand and running once again, this time towards an open doorway in the side of a grim-looking building. The street was dark and full of rubbish, opening onto another narrow street not far ahead. Ducking inside the doorway and shutting it after them, Kalina was pulled into the shadows and heard a soft click as Gregorovich drew a weapon and waited.

Sucking in a breath through her nose in an effort to be quiet, Kalina struggled to get herself under control. Her heart was pounding once again; if her breathing didn't give them away _it_ surely would. She crouched down to retrieve the pistol at her ankle and straightened slowly. Gregorovich was slightly behind her,

_Probably so I'm a human shield_ Kalina thought.

After several seconds, which felt like hours, grunting sounds from the direction of the wall indicated the policemen were scaling it. Heavy boots landed in the dirty street, and low German could be heard.

"Can't see them"

"In the street!"

The boots pounded past the doorway and faded into silence. Gregorovich relaxed.

"Give me that weapon" he said. Kalina hadn't realised he'd noticed. She handed it over unquestioningly. She'd already come to the conclusion that she was his temporary prisoner. Trying to shoot him would only get her killed. He now loomed over her in the shadows, his physical presence more menacing than any words.

"We are being pursued" he said. "A man called Patel is looking for you"

"For me?" Kalina asked, then thought again. "The disc" she stated.

"Yes. He is very terrible, a murderer. I see now he has the police under his control. Probably CCTV too"

"Great" Kalina breathed. "What do we do?"

"You mean, what do _you_ do" Yassen corrected. "You tell me where the disc is, and I let you go"

Kalina shook her head. "Then this Patel finds me and kills me. No"

Yassen idly brought his gun up and held it inches from her face. "I could make you talk" he said.

Looking into his eyes, in the dim light coming in from the broken door, Kalina shivered. They were the eyes of a killer, cold and calculating. There was, however, a flicker of curiosity deep inside them.

_At me?_ she wondered.

"I would rather you didn't" she said quietly. "Isn't Patel looking for you too?" Something had suddenly occurred to her, and she was going to run with it. "In fact" she continued, "I don't think anyone would have recognised me after last night. I've never met Patel and I look completely different. Those policemen recognised _you"_

This last was said accusingly, and by the look on Gregorovich's face Kalina knew she was right.

The gun quivered in indecision, but Yassen eventually lowered it. "We both must get out of the city" he said.

"The disc isn't in the city" Kalina said. It was a lie, but in the shadows even someone trained to spot a liar would have trouble. Kalina knew the signs, she knew to avoid them. Gregorovich studied her once again, then looked above her head in contemplation. Finally he sighed.

"Patel knows who you are now, because I have led him to you. I will keep you alive until we are out of the city, and then you will tell me the location of the disc. I will not kill you, but once we are out, Patel is your problem"

"Deal" Kalina said, a hint of a smile on her lips. A relieved smile.

Yassen stepped to the doorway and peered out. There was no sign of activity. They had to move quickly, keep to the backstreets. It was a guess which cameras Patel could view the city from, and which officials he had bribed.

_Assume all of them_ Yassen thought. He turned to look at the woman.

"What is your name?"

"Kalina. Kalina Moon"

"Stay close Kalina Moon"

Yassen opened the door and led the way out.

* * *

A/N: Together at last! Glad to see i have a few more readers... i changed the rating from M to T so the story comes up on the Alex Rider page. I thought i'd better make it an M because of the prostitute thing but nothing actually happens so i changed my mind. Anyway, please review. It's quite depressing when you have more chapters than reviews...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

* * *

As they snuck through the dimmest backstreets of the city, Yassen glanced at the girl beside him and wondered once again on the human condition. Last night she'd been a whore; today she was a normal young woman, clean and pretty. Even the expression in her eyes had changed. She was no longer innocent and eager, she was intelligent and wary.

Her wariness didn't surprise him. He had that effect on a lot of people.

Some men would take advantage, he knew. Her looks, although changed from the last time he'd seen her, were equally appealing, if not more. Yassen found women much more agreeable than Klunt's girls. He was no longer repulsed, in fact he felt drawn to her. He was used to studying himself in order to improve himself, and he recognised physical attraction. She was a woman he'd look at in the street, but whether that was all he couldn't yet say.

He knew he could have beaten the location of the disc out of her, in the deserted building, and he thought about why he hadn't.Yassen didn't like to think it was simply her looks. He didn't make a habit of hurting women, especially young attractive ones, but neither would he be stopped in his plans if a woman were in his way.

_No… _he thought. _It's not that. It's because of what she did. She killed Klunt skilfully, and escaped from under my nose. I don't know many people who could do that…_

In fact, he could only think of one, and than man was dead. John Rider had taught him, and had always been his equal.

So he took her with him because an attachment had been formed. She had earned his respect.

_And she doesn't even look like she could hurt a fly_. Yassen smiled to himself, and Kalina glanced at him and frowned, probably wondering what his expression meant.

* * *

As they were come to a crossroads and Kalina stood studying a street sign, Yassen's phone rang.

"Yes?" he said. Kalina looked on curiously.

"We have intercepted some calls" a voice on the other end said. "Patel is staying at the The Hilton, Alexander Street"

"He has bribed police" Yassen said, "He is searching for me"

"The girl?"

"With me. We are leaving the city" He saw Kalina raise an eyebrow and raised one back.

Silence on the other end for a moment, then,

"A helicopter will be waiting for you, on the Outlook"

"Right"

Yassen cut the connection and looked at Kalina. "Where is the Outlook?"

"Erm… it's a lookout point above the city, a hill to the north…" she looked up at the sky, obscured by buildings along the narrow streets.

"That way" Yassen, obviously with the better sense of direction, nodded down one of the streets.

"What's happening?" Kalina asked. "Who was that"

"We are going to a helicopter" Yassen said. "You do not need to know who that was"

Kalina shrugged.

As they moved, she'd been thinking. She could drop the disc off almost any time without Gregorovich noticing, and retrieve it later. Only she was supposed to tell him where it was once they were out of the city. When he found it wasn't in the location she gave him, he would kill her. If she told him its real location within the city, he would kill her for telling him in the first place that it wasn't in the city. If she managed to get a call to her bosses so they picked up the disc first, he would kill her. If he caught her trying to make a call to her bosses, he would kill her, unless she hadn't disclosed the location of the disc yet, and then he only might kill her. Or lose the tenuous trust he was showing in her, torture the location out of her, and then kill her.

_A singular outcome_, she decided.

Kalina knew her best chance was to make a call to her bosses and arrange a drop. But avoiding Yassen long enough to do that seemed near impossible, and leaving him would mean escaping Patel alone. She felt safer with the Russian assassin.

She decided to take an opportunity to make a call if one arose, otherwise she'd keep their deal.

_I did after all make a deal with him_ Kalina thought as they headed north. She thought Gregorovich the kind of man to keep his word, and she had never broken promises made when it came to business. She wasn't sure if she could betray him.

_All's fair in love and war_ she said to herself, resolving to wait and see.

* * *

It took almost an hour to reach the Outlook, through alleyways and derelict buildings, under a railway bridge where they disturbed some homeless men. Kalina was beginning to think no-one was searching for them, and said as much to Gregorovich. He made a derisive sound.

"I am sure they are watching, they wish us to lead them to the disc. Then they will strike"

"So… what do you propose we do?"

They had been climbing steadily for a few minutes, and as the buildings opened out it became clear they were on the lower slopes of a grassy hill. A few trees studded the top, and a family played football not far away. Yassen scanned the skies, looking for his chopper.

"I think we should lay low, and retrieve the disc later"

"We?" Kalina didn't want to be left alone, but was surprised the assassin had included her in his statement. He looked at her.

"Yes. Your dying would not be useful"

"Oh…"

The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, yet surely he could still just _make_ her tell him once they were in a safe place and get rid of her afterwards.

_I must be insurance _she thought. _As long as I'm alive I've good reason not to lie._

A low thrumming sound could be heard now, growing steadily louder. Off to the west a black speck appeared in the sky. Quickly, it neared, and Yassen tookKalina's arm and pulled her up the hill as the black chopper came in to land. When it was down he opened the door and pushed her in first, and got in next to her so she was sat between him and the pilot.

The pilot, a young dark-haired man, looked at Gregorovich, who pulled on a headset and said something to him which was lost above the noise of the blades. The chopper rose into the air and lurched before moving off; Yassen put an arm across the woman to stop her falling off the chair.

He wasn't sure how he'd managed to get himself saddled with her. Even when he'd seen her outside the café he hadn't envisaged still being with her this late in the day. Patel had certainly complicated matters. Now he was taking her to his safe-house, one of the few places in the world he spent any amount of time in. No-one had ever been there except for his pilot and a few of his associates. Certainly not a woman.

He wasn't entirely happy about that. He didn't want to show her anything personal about himself, but how could she fail to notice the personal touches to what was the closest thing he had to a home?

Shesat silently between the two men.Yassen hadfelt her stiffen when the chopper lurched, but whether that was to stay still or because he'd touched her, he wasn't sure. He wondered if he repulsed her; he thought she was intimidated by him, but how much of that was just his reputation, again he didn't know. He almost hoped she didn't find him repulsive; after all, she'd managed to pretend to be a whore to Peter Klunt and Yassen knew he was no Peter Klunt. On the other hand, such things were below him. He was an assassin and owed her nothing, only a mild respect for what she'd achieved. He had already decided to keep her as safe as he could and then let her go when all this was over. That was enough.

* * *

A short flight later they had arrived at the safe-house. It was a large bungalow nestled in the hills, stone-built and wood, with a long wooden porch and a large garage underneath. Steps cut into the hillside led to the helicopter pad, and a narrow winding approach was the only way up by road. From the front of the house the whole valley was visible, and Kalina immediately noticed the lack of any visible security. She was sure, however, that there was some. In fact, Gregorovich had the whole place covered. He'd know if anyone had entered while he wasn't there, and alarms would trigger if anyone so much as started up the road towards the house or crossed an invisible perimeter on any side.

Gregorovich jumped from the chopper and offered Kalina his hand, which she took out of reflex more than need. His grip was strong as he helped her down and she had the silliest thought about chivalry which almost made her laugh out loud. On looking below the landing pad to the valley spread out before her, and the isolation of the house, the urge disappeared when she realised just how alone she was. This was Gregorovich's territory.

He led the way down the steep steps to the driveway, crossed the entrance to the underground garage and went up the short flight to the wooden porch and the front door, innocuous-looking wood with an eye-hole for examining visitors.

Gregorovich put his eye to the hole and waited a few seconds. There were a series of clicks, and the door swung open. As Kalina passed inside she saw that the wood was a false front. The door was actually made of three-inch thick steel with several deadbolts. The pilot followed close behind her into the dim interior.

A long hallway split the house in two. To the left was a spacious living room with comfortable sofas and a cosy-looking log fireplace, and a huge kitchen with a dining table in front of a picture-window with a view of the craggy hills behind the house. Another corridor branched off the first to the right, where Kalina assumed bedrooms and bathrooms were situated. She caught a glimpse of a stairway leading up into the attic, before she was past the corridor and walking into the kitchen. Gregorovich picked up a phone from the counter and turned round.

"Go into the lounge" he said dismissively, and the pilot took Kalina's arm from behind and pulled her from the room.

"Hey…" she said, shrugging him off. "I can walk you know. Erm… can I use the bathroom?"

"Down there, at the end" the pilot pointed down the second corridor and motioned to his own eyes, then to hers in an 'I'm watching you' gesture. Kalina nodded and stalked off towards the bathroom.

She did need to go, but thought it an excellent opportunity to try and contact her employers. Finding her motel room empty when they rang they would have called her mobile. Hearing nothing, she could only assume a drop hadn't yet been arranged.

The doors along the hallway were shut. There were three of them, two to the front and one to the back. Kalina assumed one was Gregorovich's bedroom.

_To think I'm in his house_ she mused. She knew it probably wasn't his _actual_ house; that would be somewhere completely secret, but she could still feel his presence everywhere. The hall was lined with several prints and Kalina paused to look at one. It was a medieval allegorical picture, full of symbols and hidden meanings. With more than a little surprise Kalina realised she could see brushstrokes. It was genuine.

The bathroom at the end of the hall was large and airy, with a high opaque window letting in plenty of light. The whole thing was tiled making it a wetroom like Peter Klunt's, only it was functional and masculine rather than elaborate and garish. The tiles were slate-coloured. In fact, Kalina decided, they probably were slate. The sink was glass, as was the front of the large shower cubicle. Against the right-hand wall, it contained a slate-tiled bench and the glass door slid aside to allow entry. It could easily fit a few people inside. Gregorovich was obviously a man who appreciated style and comfort. By the sink stood a blue toothbrush in a glass. Kalina wondered if it was the Russian's or his pilot's.

She quickly used the toilet and washed her hands, then dug her phone out of a pocket of her trousers and entered the special number reserved for emergencies.

The other end rang once, twice, three times…

Quick strides outside the door made her look sharply towards it; the handle turned and Kalina lowered the phone from her ear, knowing she'd locked the door but feeling the flood of adrenalin of someone who's been caught red-handed.

As she was about to open her mouth to protest she was still busy, the lock unclicked and Gregorovich burst through the door. In two strides he was upon her, grabbing her wrist and pushing her against the wall below the window. He leaned down so his face was inches from hers, and squeezed her wrist hard until her fingers released the phone and she yelped in pain.

"What do you think you are doing?" Gregorovich said, voice a low growl.

"I…" Kalina stuttered. There was no point denying it. Pretending she was just calling for a pizza would probably get her killed.

Gregorovich looked angry. "Did you not think I would know the second you placed a call? Do you think me so naïve?"

Kalina tried to shrink into the wall, but it was no use. The slate was cold against her back and the tall man was firmly holding her there. His eyes flickered across her face.

"Who were you calling?"

Kalina stayed silent.

"WHO!" This was a shout, and Gregorovich's hands were suddenly on her arms, grabbing roughly. Kalina shut her eyes.

"My employers…" she whispered, and opened one eye a crack. She could feel his breath, his strong fingers digging into her arms. He exuded barely-constrained power and deadly grace, and not for the first time she felt real fear of him. She'd never given him such reason to hurt her before, and she was certain he would now.

Gregorovich bent swiftly down and picked up the phone, barely letting go of her arm as he did so. He looked at it for a moment, then smashed it against the wall by Kalina's head. Plastic cracked and splintered beneath his hand, and she winced. Gregorovich's eyes were locked on hers as he let the mangled remains fall to the ground.

"Do not do that again" he enunciated slowly. Kalina barely nodded.

"I had to try" she said, her voice stronger than she felt. He leaned back a few inches and raised an eyebrow.

"No you did not. We had a deal."

He took a deep breath and let it out, the said,

"If you try anything else, I will torture you and then kill you. Do we have an understanding?"

Kalina nodded, and Gregorovich pulled back.

The flush of rage over, he seemed to be considering. His grip had slackened slightly so it was no longer painful, but Kalina was still firmly pinned.

"You are not a man to be played with, are you Gregorovich?" she said. She was trying to stand up as straight as possible, look defiant. He scared the hell out of her but she wouldn't cower from him.

He scowled at her. "No" he snapped, and pulled her from the wall. Dragging her from the bathroom, he opened the first door on the left and pushed her inside.

"What are you…" Kalina began, but Gregorovich blocked the doorway and interrupted her.

"You will think about what you have done" he said. "Think long and hard. Then, you will tell me the location of the disc when I come for you"

"How long…"

He shut the door, and Kalina heard it lock.

She looked around. She was in a bedroom. There was a single bed against one wall, devoid of sheets, and a shallow walk-in closet. The window, again quite high in the wall so she'd have to stand on tip-toes to see out of it, was strengthened glass and didn't open. There was no other furniture. Feeling angry, despairing, but rather glad to be alive, Kalina sat down on the bed to wait.

* * *

Yassen went into the living room and glared at his pilot. The man had been involved in two annoyances to Gregorovich in less than 24 hours. First, he'd been the one Yassen sent to the brothel and had relied on the Madame to send a suitable girl without even asking to see her, then he'd trusted Kalina to use the bathroom on her own. The pilot shrugged innocently.

"She said she needed to go!"

Yassen sighed and sat down. "Next time, watch her"

The pilot grimaced, then inexplicably brightened. "What about if she wants a shower?"

Yassen awarded him another glare.

In the kitchen he had called his employers and informed them of the situation. They would deploy people to find and neutralise Patel. Yassen knew that Patel would be looking for him, but since there were no signs that the helicopter had been observed, and the pilot had taken a very circuitous route through the mountains, he was reasonably sure they were safe for now. Once Patel had been taken care of by his associates, Yassen would return for the disc. He'd locked the girl in the room because she had angered him and he didn't want her loose in his house. Although she had stood up to him and had not cracked underneath his anger, he knew that she was afraid. He would leave her alone to calm down. He could tell that if he tried to get information from her by force she would withstand him; she had that look in her eye. If he spared her and went to her as a friend later she would tell him out of thanks.

Sometimes winning trust was more effective than creating fear.

* * *

A/N: Locked up like a naughty child! Heheh, maybe Yassen has finished being nice. Thank you for all the reviews, i hope they continue! This is set after John Rider's death, before Yassen becomes involved with Alex. Weaving it into the Alex story would have been rather complicated. Anyway...hit review!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Yassen…. Surprised? I would love to see that too. Read on…!

**Chapter Six**

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* * *

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Back in the city, the ganglord Patel was annoyed. He'd received a report from a policeman about Yassen Gregorovich being spotted with a woman, and then the man's subsequent escape from the authorities. After sifting through reams of CCTV footage Gregorovich was pointed out to him, and the woman he was with. At first he thought she wasn't the same one as last night, but then, why would Gregorovich be with her? Why would they have run?

One of Patels' experts examined the pictures, confirmed that she was the same woman. They were the same height, had the same facial structure. Too many points matched for it to be anyone else.

As Gregorovich was leaving the city, Patel was mobilising his forces to intercept him in the streets. He knew enough about the man to know that he'd probably leave by helicopter; Gregorovich's helicopter was infamous, and when an official called in about a chopper taking off from the Outlook Patel had it tracked. He was furious he'd been too slow. Gregorovich must have expected people looking for him otherwise he would never have reacted to the policemen by running.

The chopper headed for the mountains. After pulling several strings and making half a dozen promises, Patel managed to pinpoint its destination to within a few miles. There were only two houses in the vicinity. He began to organise forces to visit both, but getting enough men would take time.

* * *

The sun was sinking behind the mountains in the west, and Kalina was lying on her back on the bed in semi-darkness, hands behind her head and knees pulled up. She'd thought about turning on the light, but interacting with her prison might be a sign of weakness. Really, she'd just lost the appetite to touch anything in Gregorovich's house.It had taken a long time for her nerves to stop thrumming after his outburst.Now she gazed at the ceiling, feet towards the door, wondering how much longer she was going to be there. She was thirsty, and hungry, and bored.

No noises had come from the other part of the house. She thought she would have heard if Yassen had left, although with the reinforced glass in the window she wasn't even sure of that. It was possible that her room was even soundproofed; the assassin had a steel door, it wasn't a great leap of the imagination to premise a soundproof bedroom.

Suddenly the lock clicked and the door swung open. The pilot stood in the doorway and squinted into the room.

"You can come out now" he said, looking Kalina up and down with interest. She stood up and suppressed a groan as her joints creaked.

_Should have moved around more _she decided. She had to push past the pilot to leave the room, and knew it was deliberate on his part. He didn't move to let her past, just stood there with a smirk on his face. Kalina scowled at him and padded down the corridor.

"Kitchen" the pilot said when she reached the end, and put a hand on her shoulder to turn her. He kept it there until she was in the room, where the smell of cooking invaded her nostrils. On the island in the middle of the kitchen was a bowl and a fork, and the pilot pushed her down onto a stool in front of it and said, "Your dinner…" before sitting down opposite her and placing his elbows on the table, chin in hands.

Kalina's stomach rumbled and she eagerly picked up the fork. In the bowl was some sort of Chinese food and it smelled delicious.

"Did you make this?" she couldn't resist asking. The pilot shook his head.

"I can't cook"

Kalina began to eat, half-wondering if the food was poisoned, then berating herself for being paranoid. Then the thought of truth-serums came to her and she forced that away too. Gregorovich was a good cook. He obviously hadn't wanted to eat with her, but had realised the necessity of feeding her. The pilot sat and stared, and after a while Kalina paused.

"Are you going to watch me eat the whole thing?" she asked. The man smiled.

"Yes"

"Why?"

He shrugged. Kalina sighed and finished the food. He made her uncomfortable. For some reason, people watching makes eating difficult. Unless they're eating too. It's unsettling, and Kalina could see no reason for the pilot being there other than to unsettle her. When she had put down her fork she asked for a drink, and the pilot poured her a glass of water before returning to his watching posture. She emptied it and put her elbows on the table, chin in hands, and stared right back at him.

A few minutes later Gregorovich walked in and was so surprised by what he saw that he paused in the doorway.

The atmosphere in the kitchen could be cut with a knife. On the island was an empty bowl to one side, with a fork inside and an empty glass next to it. Parker the pilot and Kalina Moon were like mirror images, barely two feet apart and having some sort of staring contest. Yassen recognised a dominating glare in his pilot's eyes and wondered if Kalina looked that way too. With her back to him he couldn't tell, only the set of her shoulders said she was relaxed and determined. He stepped into the room and cleared his throat. Parker looked up at Yassen and Kalina smiled without taking her eyes off his face.

Yassen motioned that Parker should leave, and with a mocking and malicious glance at Kalina he did, mumbling something about women as he went. Yassen sat on the stool he had vacated.

"Thank you for dinner" Kalina said peremptorily. "It was good"

Yassen glanced at the empty bowl. He hadn't expected a compliment.

"You're welcome" he said. "Have you had a chance to think?"

Kalina nodded. "Yes. I have decided to cooperate"

"Good" Yassen smiled, with what could have been a hint of warmth. "Now, you will stay here until I have recovered the disc. I think two days will suffice for Patel to be neutralised, but if it is done before then you will, of course, be able to leave earlier."

Kalina blanched. She should have known Gregorovich wanted her as insurance until he had the disc, but hearing out loud that she had to stay at his house for days made her insides feel funny. She wondered if she'd get locked in the bedroom again.

"Where will I stay?" she said.

"You did not like your room?" Yassen asked, and Kalina was shocked to see mirth in his eyes. She smiled despite herself.

"It was cosy" she said. Gregorovich smiled.

"Good. Now, tell me the location of the disc"

This was the moment Kalina had been dreading. If she lied, Gregorovich wouldn't find out until Patel had been dealt with and it was safe to 'retrieve' the disc. However, when that happened she was as good as dead. It was very strange, but whilst she was in his power she knew she could trust him. She didn't want to break that trust.

Nor did she want to admit that she'd had the disc all along.

Yassen saw the indecision on her face. All that afternoon he'd been thinking about her, locked up in his spare room. She'd made an impression on him, stood against him as so few did and lived. He admired her for it, but there was so much he didn't know. Who she was, where she'd come from, where she was going. It was none of his concern, he knew. She affected him for a few days only and then she'd be gone. She was studying his face, searching. She looked nervous.

"What is wrong?" he said, an edge to his voice. He had the horrible feeling she was going to tell him she had no idea where the disc was, perhaps had lost it or already made a drop to her employers, and a tight anger raised its ugly head in Yassen's chest. "You do know where it is, don't you?" he prompted. Kalina nodded quickly.

"It's not that…" she said.

Yassen made his voice gentle. "Is there something else you want to tell me?" Perhaps she'd got herself into trouble of some kind. If it meant fulfilling his mission he would help her, although it would be an annoying complication.

"I…" Kalina searched for the right words, decided there were none. Her hands had rested on the table, now she lowered them to where Yassen couldn't see them. His gaze sharpened as he watched her.

She looked down to undo the button on her pocket. Fumbled for the disc, retrieved it, placed it on the table. Gregorovich's eyes, following her hands, widened in surprise. He raised them to her face.

Kalina had an expression of mixed apprehension, guilt, and sheepishness. She looked ready to bolt.

"All along?" Yassen said, voice cracking slightly. The woman nodded.

So she'd played him along, or _used_ him, ever since he accosted her at the café. She knew that he wouldn't let her go, and that he was her ticket away from Patel. She had done everything to preserve herself and the disc, even making that one last effort to reach her employers earlier in the day. And now she handed the disc over, when she had few other choices. Yassen knew she could have continued the game, played him along even more with false directions and tried to escape. Based on her past performance she may even have succeeded. But she'd had the disc in her pocket all along, right under his nose. He'd never even contemplated searching her. Perhaps because it was too obvious, or perhaps because she was an attractive woman he'd seen as a whore the day before and who'd fascinated him since.

He burst out laughing.

Kalina jumped, then her eyes widened in amazement at the deadly assassin thumping the table in mirth across from her.

Gradually Yassen got himself under control and wiped his eyes. He glanced at the woman and her expression made him smile again.

"I am sorry" he said. "You…" he sighed and fixed his gaze on her pointedly. "I admire you"

"You do?" Kalina still looked ready to run.

"Yes" Yassen reached across the table and picked up the disc. "You cut this from Peter Klunt's flesh, carried it with you ever since and I never suspected. Now you give it to me freely. You could have done it before but that wouldn't have got you out of the city. You are a very clever girl"

Kalina studied him intently. Was that a _compliment?_

"Thank you" she said quietly.

"You are welcome"

He gazed at her, and she met his look steadily. There was respect in his eyes, and a glint of mirth still. Finally, Kalina didn't feel threatened by him. She felt that something had shifted between them. She was no longer his prisoner, the woman he'd dragged through the city and locked in a room. She'd climbed a step or two towards where he stood and she knew she'd earned his trust. It seemed they understood each other. She nodded slowly, and smiled.

Yassen smiled back.

* * *

A/N: Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

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Over a cup of coffee assassin and thief regarded each other in comfortable silence. Kalina didn't know what to say; although she felt relaxed she was still slightly awed by the man, and it was so long since Yassen had found himself in polite female company he wasn't sure how to begin.

"Will I stay here tonight?" Kalina said at length. It had suddenly occurred to her that now he had the disc, Gregorovich had no reason to make her stay. On the contrary, he had every reason to kick her out.

Yassen sipped his drink and nodded. "Yes. I would recommend staying until Patel has been taken care of. Of course, you are free to leave"

He studied her face. She nodded and 'hmm'd'. Now that business had been taken care of, Yassen thought that he would like to get to know the girl. Out of curiosity. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd spoken to a woman in the manner of a friend, yet he supposed this was what friends did; sat drinking coffee and 'shooting the breeze' as the Americans said.

She was very attractive really, he decided. She looked so much older with dark hair and not wearing the clothes of a whore. He remembered how she had repulsed him the night before, but now his imagination conjured up images of the bare skin he had seen, so different in shade to the paleness of the woman who sat before him. He couldn't reconcile the two and it made him glad. Kalina's bare skin would be different, inviting. He gazed at her and felt a warmth spread inside him, hardly daring to entertain the thought of pursuing her, but letting her presence and the new-found connection with her pull his imagination on regardless.

"I'd rather stay" she now said, looking at the table. "I think that would be best"

Yassen thought of her presence in his house for a whole night. It still unnerved him somewhat, allowing her into his home where she could see his touch in almost every room. At the same time it excited him. He was making himself vulnerable, not physically, but spiritually. Despite what anyone said, Yassen was a spiritual man, who thought deep and looked far. He may not have a god, but he had something greater than himself, something personal, and this woman was coming as close as anyone ever had to seeing it.

He decided to ask what he wanted to. She may not answer, and that was her prerogative, but Yassen was curious.

"Who do you work for?" he said, his tone undemanding. Kalina looked at him and smiled slightly.

"Do I have to tell you?"

So she thought she was in his power. Yassen knew she wasn't; he would let her do whatever she liked, but it was interesting to see she thought of him as dominant.

"No" he said. The young woman sighed.

"I don't know to be honest. They're anonymous"

A lot of people were anonymous, Yassen knew. It meant nothing. He tried another question.

"What nationality are you?"

They'd been conversing in German since Peter Klunt's house, but Yassen himself was Russian and the girl was certainly not German. She spoke the language proficiently but with an accent like Yassen which would never allow her to pass for a native.

"English" she said, and smiled at the look on his face.

"You do not look English" he said. She could pass for Russian, he thought, with her high cheekbones and pale skin. He supposed the English came in all shapes and sizes; they were a mongrel race.

Kalina shrugged. "I haven't lived in England for a long time"

Yassen stayed silent, but she didn't offer more information. He decided to prompt her, but switched to English.

"How did you become an assassin?"

Kalina looked surprised, and grinned showing white teeth. She answered in easy English, speaking as if it were indeed her first language, "I'm not an assassin. I'm more of a thief, and a spy."

"How did you become a thief and a spy?" Yassen countered. The young woman studied him for a moment, then sighed and shrugged. She'd obviously decided there was no harm in telling him.

"I lived with my uncle after my parents divorced. He was my uncle by marriage, an Italian. Mafia"

Yassen's curiosity piqued again.

"I ran errands for him" she continued. "and when he was killed I kept running errands, but for other people. I got rather good at it"

Yassen nodded. "How old are you?"

"21" Kalina smiled. "Now Mr. Gregorovich, since I've told you my life story, what's yours?"

Yassen told her of his ideology and his recruitment to Scorpio, of his years of training and his aptitude for assassinations. Kalina listened with interest.

"I've heard of Scorpio" she said when he was done. "But never in much detail. I knew you worked for them"

"You had heard of me?" Yassen asked.

"Of course. You have quite a reputation. I was terrified when you found me"

Yassen laughed. He knew he was intimidating, he tried his best to be, and the girl's admission amused him in its innocence.

He was about to say something about not being as bad as he looked when Parker stepped into the room.

"Yassen? Trouble…"

"What?" Yassen got to his feet and followed the man out into the hall.

"Someone's broken the perimeter" the pilot said. "Just now. They've got the place surrounded"

Yassen strode to a cupboard by the stairs, opened it and pressed a button. Traps at the entrances to the house armed themselves. Next to the button were arms, and he selected several handguns and a large rifle. Parker grabbed some weapons, and looked at Kalina, who had followed them out.

"What's going on?" she said. Yassen looked down at her.

"Go upstairs" he commanded. When she didn't move, he reached out and took her arm, gently this time, and pushed her until she began to climb. "Stay there until I come for you" he said. He turned to the pilot and they began a hurried conversation in Russian. Unable to tune in quickly enough to catch what was said, Kalina hurried up the stairs before Gregorovich decided to stop being so nice. She caught the tension in the air, the look on Parker's face. Something was going down and it wasn't going to be pretty. A rush of adrenalin made her heart start pounding as she climbed.

* * *

At the top of the stairs was a door, which Kalina opened and slipped through, pushing it to behind her but not closing it fully. A skylight in the roof illuminated the attic, revealing a plush cream-carpeted floor and row of wardrobes. She turned, puzzled, and saw against the left-hand wall an enormous bed with cream sheets. The room was huge, covering much of the floor-plan of the house, she guessed. The stairway arose almost in the middle, and on the opposite side to the bed was a large desk with a neat stack of papers and a photograph in a frame.

Kalina walked over to the desk and picked up the photo. It was black-and-white, and showed a young couple on a porch. They were smiling and happy; the man had his arm around the woman and she was leaning into him.

_Gregorovich's parents?_

To the right, opposite the wardrobes was a wall with a door in it, probably leading to a bathroom. Kalina opened it a crack and peered inside to see that she'd guessed correctly. Another small skylight was in the roof of this room, which was again a wetroom but without the enormous shower of downstairs.

Turning and surveying the space, and recognising for the first time the shirt flung carelessly over the chair by the desk as the one the Russian had been wearing the night before, Kalina realised that she was actually in Gregorovich's bedroom.

She quickly wondered how the tall man managed to have an attic bedroom, but the room ended before the ceiling sloped too far down. He probably couldn't stand up at the head of his bed, but then a bed was for lying in, not standing on. For the second time that day, Kalina sat on the edge of a bed to wait.

After only a few seconds she heard sharp gunfire outside, and a concussion shook the skylight. She wasn't sure if it was coming from inside or outside the house, but the battle had definitely begun. She thought of her own pistol which Gregorovich had taken from her, and thought she should be helping somehow. Gregorovich, however, must know his house well enough to defend it.

_Musn't he?_

More gunfire, closer this time, and simultaneous crashes on the floor below her. An unintelligible shout which sounded angry, and the gunfire resumed. There was a small explosion andthe shotscut off eerily, but were soon picked up again from another direction.

Kalina drummed her fingers on the bed.

After more gunfire and a terrible smashing sound, everything went quiet. Kalina stood up and crept to the head of the stairs, listening. She couldn't hear a thing. Gregorovich had told her to stay put, but what if he were dead? Patel would get the disc, or come for her since he didn't know Gregorovich had it. It was only a matter of time before they came looking for her, searched the house.

She silently opened the door and padded down the stairs, listening hard. A low murmur of voices was just discernible when she reached the hallway. She peered into the open cupboard by the stairs but it was empty; if she went any further it would be unarmed.

Suddenly her eyes lit on a small table beneath the cupboard. She hadn't really looked at it before, because the object on it was so nondescript. A black sculpture, of no particular shape, long and curved and deadly if swung hard enough. Kalina picked it up, feeling slightly more reassured.

The murmur of voices came again, and Kalina followed the sound. At the intersection with the main hallway lay a body which she stepped gingerly over. In the living room a blood spatter marred the floor; the window was broken and someone had died falling through it. Another man lay just beyond him. There were bullet holes in the portion of the far wall of the kitchen which was visible through the open door as Kalina neared it. The huge picture window was shattered, and the voices were now discernible.

"…not be happy"

"That is not my problem" Gregorovich's voice.

"I will make it your problem. I will cut off your fingers one by one until you tell me"

A bitter laugh. "You will have to shoot me first"

Kalina crept closer as they spoke, pausing when they were silent. Gregorovich had his back to what was once the window, hands palm-outwards by his side to show he was unarmed. He was facing slightly away from her, eyes locked on his captor, unable to see her. Kalina saw a quivering gun and leaned forwards to see the man holding it. His shoulders were hunched and tense, he was dressed all in black and wore an earpiece, but he was alone. Three bodies of men dressed like himself littered the floor.

"You would die rather than tell me? For a disc? For a girl?" The man sounded angry, he spat the words in incredulity.

"How do you know she is not already dead?" Gregorovich asked. The man in black snarled and cocked his weapon.

Kalina didn't think. She sprang and swung with all her might.

There was a sickening crack and theman in black sank to the floorwith hisgun clattering down beside him. Gregorovich jumped and fixed his eyes on her.

"I told you to stay upstairs!" he growled.

Kalina looked at Gregorovich, then at the man she'd just battered, and back again.

"You're welcome!" she cried.

Yassen opened his mouth to reply, but a flicker of movement caught his attention.

"Look ou…" He didn't move quickly enough. Bullets sprayed the already-broken window and he felt shards of glass rip through his shirt. He dove behind the island, unable to take Kalina with him. He heard her cry out in pain and then a man in black was on top of him, gun swinging into his line of vision. Gregorovich reacted instantly, swiping the gun aside and smashing the palm of his hand into the man's face. He heard garbled shouts to move from the other end of the kitchen and grabbed his assailant's gun, rolling over and aiming round the island ready to shoot whoever got in his way.

A bullet whistled past his head from the doorway, and he ducked back to safety. Edging round to the other side of the island, he found a better angle and shot the man who fired at him. The man screamed and fired wildly, but when the cartridge was empty he tried to run to Gregorovich, a wicked-looking knife in his hand. Gregorovich struggled and broke his arm, then rammed a fist into his neck.

With the perfect clarity that comes from danger, his eyes swept the kitchen and he saw that Kalina was gone.

* * *

A/N: Uh-oh... just when things were going so well! Thanks for all the reviews, keep it up! 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Kalina woke up and groaned. She had the mother of all headaches. She was in darkness, and at first thought with a wave of panic that she was blind. She had been in the kitchen and then…

Someone had whacked her over the head, much like she had treated the man in black. The irony didn't escape her.

She waved a hand in front of her face and saw the faintest of outlines of her pale fingers. Not blind then, just in a darkened room. She was lying on what felt like a hard bed, and slowly sat up, grimacing as her head spun. Taking several deep breaths to clear it, Kalina reached behind her to feel for a wall and found that the bed was indeed against one. It felt like cold concrete. She kept her hand on the wall and stood, then walked the room. After only a few strides she came to a corner, and then another; the room was perhaps 8 feet square, with a thin metal door in the wall opposite the bed. The door had no handle, but an indentation near the bottom and another around head-height suggested means of communication with the outside world.

Kalina knocked on the door, eliciting a hollow ringing. Nothing answered.

Feeling slightly nauseous and wondering if she had a concussion, Kalina lay back down on the bed using her outstretched arm as a pillow. She was obviously a prisoner, but could do nothing until her gaoler came for her. Until then she'd try to rest, and closed her eyes against the cloying darkness.

* * *

After checking his house and surrounding area for any more of Patel's men, Yassen made an angry phonecall to his employers. He wanted to know how the hell Patel had managed to launch an attack when the man was supposed to be dead. Scorpio weren't normally so lax. 

The man he got through to apologised, saying that Patel had moved on by the time they got to the Hilton where he was staying, and they had been unaware that he knew where Yassen had gone to. Yassen was assured he would be handsomely rewarded for his troubles, and the Scorpio representative asked about the damage he had sustained.

"The house is ruined" Yassen said, slightly bitterly. He had used the house as an occasional base for a long time and had grown used to it.

"Parker?"

Yassen paused. He couldn't remember what had become of his pilot…

"I...I do not know…they took the girl" That was far more important than the fate of Parker.

Silence on the other end for a moment, then; "Did she tell you the location of the disc?"

"No"

Yassen was thinking quickly. If he handed the disc over he would be free to go after Patel alone. Scorpio was not interested in the woman, but Yassen knew as soon as he realised she'd been taken that he would get her back of his own account. If Scorpio thought she still held the key to the mission, they would offer assistance in recovering her. Based on Patel's attack, Yassen decided he needed all the assistance he could get.

The man on the other end was silent for a moment, then said,

"What do you recommend?"

"We must rescue the woman" Yassen said simply. The man from Scorpio sighed audibly.

"What do you need?"

* * *

It was now the middle of the night, more than 24 hours since the girl had stolen the disc in the first place. Yassen had barely slept since, and he could feel fatigue catching up with him. He had to keep going though, there were too many things to do before he could allow himself a rest. 

Yassen flew his own helicopter to the rooftop of a building in the city where the Scorpio forces sent to find Patel were gathered. The man he'd spoken to on the phone was there, with a hastily put-together file containing all the information on Patel and the girl's whereabouts. After meeting him on the landing pad, the man led Yassen into the building and to a nearby room which had been commandeered.

"We know where he took her" the man said, and flicked a switch which started a projector. An image appeared on the far wall; it was a bird's eye view of a large house with a swimming pool, in immaculate lawns.

"This is Patel's house. He has a prison in the basement and we know he uses it frequently. We have reports of activity at the house just a few minutes ago, that would be about the right time for the girl to have arrived there. We think it best to wait until morning to launch an attack; Patel will do nothing tonight. He is not the kind of man who works at 3 in the morning"

Yassen nodded. "I need some sleep anyway. I only hope you are right, if the girl is tortured she may tell him everything. Then we would be chasing him blindly. At least now we know where he is and have a way to stop him before the situation escalates"

"Indeed" the man from Scorpio agreed. He studied the Russian for a moment. "You will be in charge of a team, you already know most of them. Get some sleep...you leave at 0700"

Yassen nodded and left the room. A young soldier outside the door led him to a small room where a bed had been made up. Yassen took off his boots and lay on the bed, willing himself to rest. He knew he'd be woken up in good time to get ready for the assault. His mind, however, would not calm down. He had mentioned torture in relation to Kalina. He knew Patel tortured people; it was in his file, and the thought of the young woman being hurt made him feel odd.

_Perhaps I care for her_ he mused. There were very few people he cared for, but those he did, he protected. Even though he'd known her just a day, Kalina had found her way into his thoughts. She ran through his head like a dream-image, the fear in her eyes when he shouted at her, the hard resolution when she stood up to him, and the slow sweet smile when they finally understood each other.

Yassen swore. Attachments were dangerous, yet he didn't want to break this one. His heart beat faster when he thought of her in pain; his chest constricted in anger and his pride was hurt that he felt that way at all. He could walk away so easily and forget she ever existed. Patel would get nothing from her and Yassen would go on with his life.

His conscience, however, wouldn't let him.

But Yassen knew a conscience wasn't one of his few weaknesses. As Kalina's face floated in his mind's eye, and he felt again the warmth of her skin when he touched her, which hadn't even registered at the time, he realised it was his heart that was making him act so.

Yassen scowled. He hadn't even realised he had a heart. Or if he did, he thought he'd lost it long ago. The woman had taken the first step towards finding it again and he wanted, more than the success of his mission, for her to keep searching.

* * *

The second time Kalina awoke, it was because light had flooded her cell. She squinted and blinked painfully against it, sitting up quickly and looking towards the door. The highest panel opened and a pair of eyes looked in. 

Kalina gazed back at them, and the panel shut. The door swung open and two men entered, dressed like soldiers and swarthy in appearance. They each took an arm and pulled her from the bed, almost carrying her out into a dingy corridor. Another man stood waiting, as tall in stature as Gregorovich but dark-haired and moustachioed. His eyes had looked through the opening of the door, and now he gazed down at her with a grimly welcoming smile.

"I hope this morning finds you well" he said in heavily-accented German. His smile was unsettling, not reaching his eyes. Kalina stayed silent, and he continued.

"Mr. Patel wishes to see you. I suggest you cooperate with him"

He motioned to the guards and they escorted her to the end of a corridor and into a small lift. The tall man got in and pressed a button, and the doors closed. After only a short ride they opened again revealing what looked like a hotel landing, with a red-carpeted floor and large doors leading off in three directions. The soldiers moved her through the doors ahead into a large hall, and through the windows Kalina saw she was on the ground floor of a building. The grey light outside suggested very early morning. It still felt somewhat like a hotel, but as she crossed several spacious rooms she realised it was the mansion of someone very wealthy.

Eventually they crossed through double-doors and into a panelled office. A huge desk faced the doors, with a single chair in front of it. Behind the desk sat a man Kalina assumed was Patel. He looked every inch the ganglord.

His skin was dark and tanned, with a growth of stubble shadowing his chin. His hair was shoulder-length, slicked-back and shining in the light from a large window. He wore a light grey suit and silk neckerchief, and the hands clasped beneath his chin were laden with gold rings and bracelets. Kalina noticed with distaste that scars criss-crossed his face; a particularly angry-looking one ran from his forehead to his cheek, marring his eyebrow.

She was pressed into the chair, which was hard and uncomfortable, and before she could protest her wrists were cuffed to the back of it. The soldiers tightened the bands painfully, sharp metal dug into her skin and she glanced down to see the chair was bolted to the floor.

_Uh-oh…_

Patel nodded to the guards, whose retreating footsteps left the room. The tall man who had followed them stood off to one side, just on the edge of Kalina's vision as she looked ahead at the ganglord. He lowered his hands and leaned forwards, studying her.

"So" he said at length, "you are the one who stole the disc from Peter Klunt"

Kalina nodded slowly and Patel smiled. Like the tall man, his smile was also threatening.

"It was amusing to watch, but annoying nonetheless. You see, I had also planned on stealing the disc"

"How?" Kalina said. Gregorovich had told her Patel wanted it, but she didn't know any details. It was still a mystery to her why he had chased the Russian.

"I planned to kill Gregorovich, but you got there first. Yesterday, I find Gregorovich with you. Were you working together?"

"No"

"He caught you then?"

"Yes"

Since she'd woken up, in the lift and on the walk over, Kalina had been desperately processing her options. Gregorovich had the disc, he had no reason to rescue her. She may have felt something… something she didn't like to rationalise, and even though he was her only hope of escape, the only person who knew Patel had her, she knew he wouldn't come. He had the disc and that was all.

The sensible thing to do would be to tell Patel the truth; that Gregorovich was the one he should be looking for. If Gregorovich was sensible he'd have handed the disc over to his employers already and left the country. If she told the truth, Kalina knew she might live.

On the other hand, pretending to know the location might get her tortured. Her story could be checked and found false, she would eventually be killed. Patel would not go after Gregorovich. But then, Gregorovich could take care of himself.

She had saved his life. Surely that must count for something.

But why should he care? She was alone…

It was a no-brainer. Kalina had to tell Patel that she'd given the disc away. She was worth nothing to the ganglord, and honesty might buy her life.

Patel was speaking again, his German difficult to understand.

"Did you tell him where is the disc?"

Kalina nodded. "He has it in his possession already"

Patel's expression darkened. "That is not true…"

"It is" Kalina felt a burst of fear, quashed it. "He made me tell him. You must know he's not a man to be played with"

"Neither am I!" Patel shouted, banging the table. He looked to the tall man, who stepped forwards and brought a long, thin, sharp knife-point to within a few inches of Kalina's left eye. She stared at it and felt her heart start to pound.

"Are you sure Gregorovich has the disc?" the tall man said. His voice was level and commanding, and his hand was steady as he brought the knife closer. Kalina turned her head and his other arm shot out, grabbing her chin and holding it still.

The knife-point came so close Kalina could barely see it anymore, it was just a blur beyond the tear that welled up automatically as she thought of her eye being gouged. Something cold and sharp nicked her lower eyelid and she whimpered.

"I gave it to him myself…" her voice was a terrified whisper.

The knife wavered, and moved away.

"She tells the truth" the tall man said, and looked to Patel. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands once again beneath his chin.

"Get rid of her" he said. "Find Gregorovich. It may not be too late"

The tall man stepped outside and returned with the two soldiers, who un-cuffed Kalina's wrists and pulled her from the chair. Her legs felt weak, but they would have dragged her like a sack of flour had she fallen and she forced them to keep moving back through the rooms to the lift. Barely ten minutes had passed since she'd woken up in the cell, yet she knew that she would never see Patel again.

She was led back down the dingy corridor by the soldiers. The tall man had left them at the lift upstairs, and Kalina wondered what her fate would be. She could be locked up forever, or just until Patel had run after Gregorovich. She felt a twinge of guilt at betraying him, although betrayal was a strong word since she owed him nothing. Still, she hoped Patel didn't find him. Seeing the man the night before about to shoot the Russian had made her act to save him and she recognised that same concern for his safety now.

Maybe it was the way he smiled that made her feel so.

She was pushed roughly back into the tiny cell and turned to face the soldiers. After a brief and rapid conversation in Portuguese Kalina didn't understand, one of them stepped into the cell and the other swung the door shut and locked it. Kalina took a step backwards against the wall by the bed and stared at him in disbelief and awful comprehension.

The man raised his hands in peace, said something in a gentle but mocking tone, and stepped towards her. Kalina shook her head.

"No"

The man cocked his head, shrugged, and pulled a long knife from his belt.

_No no no no no no no!

* * *

_

A/N: Yay pagebreaks! Many thanks to Chalice Blackbird for the html. I was using "simple mode" before but the break button on the toolbar stopped working. Meh. Anyway, i've hopefully made everything right again!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Yassen Gregorovich stalked across the rooftop to his helicopter in the dim light of an emerging dawn with the determination of a man who will stop at nothing. He awoke feeling more refreshed than the three hours sleep warranted, Kalina Moon's face with its half-smile a talisman in his mind. He would get her back that day, no matter who he had to kill for it. And he had a very good imagination when it came to killing Patel. 

Scorpio had given him a team of men he trusted. They would descend on Patel's mansion like a plague, swift and deadly. The man from Scorpio must have seen something in Yassen's face, something which made him realise the Russian had to succeed and succeed well. Rarely did they give their employees such free reign, but Yassen had insisted. He would attack Patel with overwhelming force.

Curiously, he thought the information on the disc must be worth an incredible amount to Scorpio for them to willingly give him such resources. If Scorpio had turned round and said they didn't really care, however, Yassen would have gone ahead and raided Patel's mansion anyway. He was in that kind of mood.

He just couldn't stop thinking about the girl.

He hoped Patel didn't know they were coming. He didn't know what kind of surveillance the man had, but Yassen hoped he held the element of surprise.

_Where is she right now?_ He wondered as the chopper lifted off from the rooftop and climbed the grey sky. _What are they doing to her? Will she talk?_

A thought occurred to him, and Yassen almost slapped himself on the forehead. Kalina didn't have the disc. Yassen did. Patel would wring that out of her, even if she didn't want to tell. Yassen was trained to withstand torture, but he doubted a young woman was. Patel would want Yassen.

_Or turn tail and run…_

Yassen flattered himself that Patel might not challenge him.

_But he came for me at Peter Klunt's house. If he knows I have the disc he will want me. _He smiled grimly. _Let him try… I will bring the battle to him._

He gave a few last-minute orders across the radio to the other helicopters in the squadron. They carried almost two dozen men, and as the sun rose over the horizon to the East they descended onto Patel's mansion like avenging demons.

* * *

Kalina sat back on the bed, bloody and exhausted. Her fingernails were torn and seeping dark blood, her arms were scraped and bruised and her vest was torn across the middle. A crimson stain was growing through the khaki material making it stick in a patch to her side. The soldier lay unconscious on the floor before the door. His knife was on the ground by the bed. His slack face was marred by scratches, and his head rested close to the wall Kalina had smashed it against when she'd eventually got an upper hand in the struggle.

Her breath was coming in gasps, partly from fear, partly from the effort of fending off someone half again as big as her. She knew self-defence and, indeed, offence, but in such an enclosed space it was useless. A kick to the groin had got her slashed in the stomach but nothing else would have loosened the soldier's hands from her arms. Now she stared at the door, waiting for his comrade to come in and see what she'd done.

She swiftly picked up the knife and stood, assuming a feral position. The grill in the door opened and the soldier looked in, looked round for his colleague, looked back at Kalina and slammed the grill shut swearing. The door remained closed.

With a shaky sigh, Kalina checked her side. The cut wasn't deep and the blood was clotting fast. Just a flesh wound. Her arms hurt far more where strong fingers had dug in, and her broken nails stung painfully. She bit at them to remove the worst catches and winced as she tasted the coppery tang of her own blood.

Stepping back until she was against the corner of the room furthest from the unconscious soldier, she tried to control her breathing and regain full use of her quivering muscles, in case something else should happen. Patel obviously didn't care what happened to her, but armed and dangerous, anyone else wanting to come close would have to shoot her first.

Unless she fell asleep. They could always leave her there for days…

Kalina felt an overwhelming sense of despair. There was nothing left to do; no escape, only probable punishment for hurting a guard. She examined the long knife in her hand. All secret agents learn that if a situation gets too bad, and there really is no way out, a better alternative is sometimes death. It is always an option.

* * *

Yassen's forces spread out and tore through Patel's mansion like the highly-skilled soldiers they were. It was their job and they performed to a standard which made Yassen proud to be a member of Scorpio. Room by room, they slaughtered all who resisted. Those who gave quarter were disarmed, rounded up and placed in a holding cell guarded by four men. Yassen followed at the back of his men, walking through rooms they had already cleared, ignoring the opulence of the mansion but taking in every other detail; the layout, possible traps, anything which could be useful to an invading force.

He had expected more. Patel had a lot of men but most of them seemed servants. His guards were unprepared for an attack. Yassen found Patel in the office Kalina had visited, right at the end of the house. The double doors had been sealed and it was heavily-guarded by those who had fallen back from the attack. It took almost five minutes to gain entry, in which time Yassen imagined horrible things being done to Kalina, and Patel making his escape.

The ganglord, however, was sat patiently behind his desk. A tall man stood to his right in the manner of a butler or advisor. He was dressed well and regarded Gregorovich with the same imperial stare as did his master. Yassen, flanked by six men, stood behind the metal chair which was bolted to the floor, once his eyes had flicked over it in distaste and unease. He wondered who had sat there.

Light was just filtering through the window of the office, but a table-lamp provided more illumination. It cast odd shadows on the walls, creating an almost eerie atmosphere. Yassen felt the need to whisper and disregarded it. He glared at Patel, willing the man to look away. How dare he challenge Gregorovich and have the impertinence to look him in the eye.

"Patel" Yassen spat, adding disdain to his tone. "You have something of mine"

Patel seemed to frown. He drew himself up slightly in his chair. "Au contrare, Gregorovich. You have something of _mine"_

Now it was Gregorovich's turn to frown. Patel must mean the disc, he knew.

"I am glad you dropped by" Patel said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "I was planning to call on you myself later today"

Yassen studied him. So the man _had_ been coming after him. He wanted the disc that badly. Still, calling on Yassen unannounced was a mistake few people made and lived. The assassin felt a growing anger at the ganglord's attitude. He hadn't got where he was by letting people dominate him. Patel was sweating; he looked uneasy. Despite his bravado he knew he was done for. Now Yassen sneered.

"Do you think this is a social call? Do many of your social calls look like this?" He motioned to the six soldiers around him. Patel's frown deepened, the unease dissipating somewhat.

"You have the disc, Gregorovich. Why come here?" he said. Yassen was silent, and Patel broke out into laughter.

"You don't have the disc! The little bitch!" He looked at the tall man, whose face had taken on a mask of absolute fury. Patel continued laughing in great rolling chuckles, then stopped suddenly and looked at Yassen. "I'll help you kill her if you like"

Yassen stepped around the chair and loomed over the desk. The tall man moved forwards but six guns swivelled towards him and he froze. Yassen leant down and glared at Patel, and enunciating every word slowly and carefully, he whispered,

"I…have…the…disc. Now, where…is…she?"

"You want _her_?" Patel hissed back, incredulity crossing his face. He glanced to the tall man and opened his mouth in a toothy show of mirth. "She's probably dead by now. Or ruined… I hope for her sake she wasn't a virgin…"

He burst into laugher again, and Yassen's face twisted in anger. He lifted his gun and shot Patel in the chest once, twice. Patel fell silent. The tall man lunged for his own gun, concealed in his waistband, and was shot by three different soldiers. He fell to the floor, dead.

Yassen turned and faced his men. "I want this place searched. Find the girl"

* * *

As the soldiers left the room and spread out, Yassen stalked back to the hallway where he'd noticed the lift on the way in. He knew Patel had a dungeon, and that was the logical place for a prisoner to be. Motioning to two of his own soldiers he got into the lift and pressed the lowest button. The doors slid shut.

"Be ready" he said. The men readied their rifles and took up positions on either side of the door. Yassen stood behind one of them and waited, the tight feeling in his chest from Patel's words growing stronger with every passing second. He knew, and didn't really care, that it was fear.

As the lift doors opened, the two soldiers stepped into view of the corridor, and a surprised shout was heard in Portuguese, followed by a single gunshot from the man in front of Gregorovich. When he stepped out into the corridor he saw a swarthy soldier lying on the ground in front of the farthest cell.

The corridor was grey and dim, sparsely-lit and smelled of damp. Yassen told his men to go back upstairs, and the re-entered the lift. He waited for the doors to close before walking down the corridor to where he was sure Kalina was imprisoned.

On reaching the door he placed his left hand against the cool metal, gun still wielded by his right. He wished he could see through walls, or hear with his fingers what was within the room. He thought about opening the panel, peering through, but decided against it. Whatever he found would be there if he peeked at it or stared it in the face.

Taking a deep breath he grabbed the handle and pulled. Something clicked, and the heavy door swung open.

Kalina stood, slightly crouched, eyes wide and dilated with fear, blood-stained and pale, knife in raised fist. She flinched and then gasped.

"Yassen!"

Before he could react she attacked him. Her whole weight hit him in the chest and he heard the sharp clang of her knife as it clattered to the floor. Her arms went around his shoulders and her face buried in his neck, lithe body clinging to him for dear life. Instinctively, he put his arms around her and held her there.

"Yassen…" she repeated at length. "Thank you for coming"

She hadn't moved, and he stroked her back with his free hand while the one with the gun just held her weight. She was on tiptoes and leant against him. She felt cold.

"Are you ok?" he said gently. She nodded and mumbled,

"I may have killed the guard"

Yassen noticed the man on the floor of her cell. "Did he…?"

"It was his own fault" Kalina pulled back slightly, moved her hands to his chest, looked down shyly. "He shouldn't have tried to touch me"

Yassen's hand rose to stroke a bruised arm. "No" he said. "He shouldn't"

Kalina looked up and met his gaze. When she'd heard the shout, the gunshot, she'd felt a surge of hope but hardly dared to credit it. Now all she felt was relief and incredible warmth towards the man before her. He'd come for her, when she knew he wouldn't.

"Why did you…" she began, and stopped. She didn't know the right words. "I mean… you have the disc. You don't need me"

Yassen sighed. Kalina's hands were now on his arms, barely stroking through the fabric. He held her round the waist so she couldn't pull back. He didn't want to relinquish his hold.

"I wouldn't count on that" he said enigmatically. Kalina raised her eyes again to his. Yassen was studying her now, looking her up and down.

"You're hurt" he said, and pulled up her vest before she could protest.

"Just a scratch" Kalina flinched and stepped backwards now his hold was loosened. She was suddenly slightly embarrassed at hugging him, at his words. Did he really mean them? Gregorovich? He must have seen the indecision in her eyes because he lowered his hands.

"I'm sorry" he said. He was thinking he shouldn't have touched her after what she'd been through. And now her body language didn't invite his hands. She was looking at the floor again, and Yassen didn't know what to do. For a brief moment things had felt right, but the moment was gone. He turned on his heel. "We should leave" he said. "Patel is dead"

"Where are we going?" Kalina asked as she followed him to the lift.

"My employers" Yassen replied.

"What will you do with me?"

He looked at her. "I do not know yet"

* * *

In the lift, Kalina felt just how awkward the atmosphere had become. Things had shifted between them once again. She felt his lingering touch, how comforting it was and how much she'd needed it, and knew she'd ruined it all by pulling away. Yassen Gregorovich had held her in his arms but now his gaze was distant and cold. She felt gooseflesh rise on her bare arms and a chill spread in her soul, and she wanted the warmth of him back.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten

* * *

**

Unlike the last time they'd ridden in a chopper together, when Gregorovich motioned Kalina into the one waiting for them outside Patel's mansion, he didn't get in beside her. This one was a transport helicopter with room for troops in the back, and Yassen made Kalina get into the troop's area before shutting the door on her and going back to the house. Kalina didn't know if it was because he didn't want to be near her, or just because the back of the chopper was the best place for her. She waited in silence with the pilot for several minutes, and then the door opened again and five men spilled inside, taking up seats around her without a second glance in her direction.

The pilot lifted off, and because of the noise of the blades which made speech impossible Kalina realised she couldn't even ask what was happening. Gregorovich wasn't in the helicopter with them. There were more soldiers outside Patel's house so he must be following, but where they were going or if she was even still under the Russian's control, she had no idea. He could just have handed her over to the men now sat around her, and they'd take her to his bosses and she'd never see him again.

_Why do I want to see him again? _she wondered. _Is it because he's my guarantee of safety? He did save me after all… Or is it because I…._

She didn't finish the thought. Whatever she felt towards Yassen Gregorovich, Kalina was sure she should steer clear of it.

_I've known him what? Two days? _

And one of them was as an enemy.

Kalina didn't have much experience with relationships. Her world was a male-dominated one; female agents were few and normally not used in the most dangerous situations. Women were good at winning trust, fluttering eyelashes and getting things from stupid men too distracted to notice what was happening. It was a specialist occupation for a woman. That meant that the only men Kalina came across were the ones she was stealing from or other agents who thought they could do her job better.

She felt a kind of pity for the first category; for their pathetic weaknesses. When a man could be fooled so easily it made her wonder how the human race had managed to survive as long as it had. Of the agents she came into contact with, most didn't let slip anything about themselves. They were professional, distant just like she was to them.

In her free time, Kalina flirted and dated occasionally, but how can you explain to someone that you can't see them next week because you'll be in Honduras committing theft and might not come back alive? She had told men she was a nurse, a lawyer, a rock-climbing instructor, a writer… all of which were lies but they served the purpose of making her look normal.

Gregorovich knew what she did for a living. He knew where she'd come from. And she knew about him. Last night in the kitchen he'd told her his past. Not much, but where he'd grown up and how he'd got into the assassin trade. Kalina got the impression it wasn't something he told many people…obviously, it wasn't. Information is dangerous and Gregorovich had shown a lot of trust by telling her.

_But should I trust him?_ Kalina asked herself. She felt she was at a crossroads; there was a choice to be made. Trust Gregorovich and to hell with the consequences, or nip whatever was going on between them in the bud and leave the Russian behind.

As the helicopter began to descend, Kalina wondered if she even had the power to choose. For all she knew the choice had already been made. Her thoughts now turned to the people she was being taken to meet. Scorpia.

* * *

Kalina passed through the same ordinary corridor that Yassen had passed through the night before. The lighting was quite bright and harsh, and she felt distinctly the fatigue of being awake for almost 30 hours, since she left the motel the morning before. It was now nearing noon and she'd have felt hungry but for the sick nervousness in the pit of her stomach. One of the soldiers from the helicopter escorted her to the same meeting room Yassen had discussed her in almost 12 hours ago, and she found the same man waiting for her, although to Kalina he was a stranger. 

He didn't seem at all curious about her. The man from Scorpia was small and grey and nondescript, in a grey suit, of indeterminate age although Kalina would have put him above 40; he had an experienced look about him. His gaze was calm as it flicked over her, and he motioned her to sit.

"I am Lightfoot" he said simply, his voice as unremarkable as the rest of him. He took a seat around the table from her so they were facing across a corner. "I am glad to see you alive"

"Thank you" Kalina said, eyeing him curiously. "Where is Gregorovich?"

Lightfoot's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Attending to business, I presume. Did you want to see him?"

"No..." Kalina shook her head. "No, I just wondered. I haven't seen him since the house…"

"Well, you may see him again before all this is done. It depends…"

Lightfoot spoke in English, which suggested he knew it was Kalina's first language. However, he had a hint of an unplaceable accent. His origins were as unfathomable as his motives.

"Depends on what?" she prompted. Lightfoot smiled slightly. He had none of the physical presence of Gregorovich but he still seemed to wield power. He wasn't at all threatening though, he came across as more of a concerned uncle.

"I have followed your activities with interest these past two days, since I heard of what you did to Peter Klunt" Lightfoot raised his eyebrows. "Not many people string Yassen along for that long either, in case you didn't know…"

Kalina grimaced. "Unfortunately I did know"

This elicited another smile. "And yet you are still alive my dear. Our favourite assassin radioed in a little while ago to say you had given him the disc. It was on your person all along?"

Kalina frowned. Why had Yassen waited until Patel's house to tell Scorpia he had the disc? There was no time to think it through, Lightfoot was waiting.

"Yes…" she said cautiously.

Lightfoot nodded. "Most ingenious. I am glad for your sake you kept the bargain. I would hate to have you killed for crossing us"

Kalina winced. "I didn't though" she said.

"Which is why I would like to offer you a job" Lightfoot said. "Might as well get to the point. I like what I see in you, and I think Scorpia could make use of you"

Kalina smiled half-deprecatingly, half-nervously, trying to still her suddenly fast-beating heart. A _job offer_? "Oh…well…I've never really _worked _for anyone before. I mean, not permanently"

"Yes" Lightfoot smiled pleasantly. "I know you've always done contracts. But Scorpia could offer you some... stability. A steady wage"

Kalina looked thoughtful. She certainly hadn't expected this turn of events, but it made sense when you thought about it. Scorpia probably poached lots of agents.

"How steady?" she asked. Lightfoot fluttered the slender fingers of one hand.

"Oh, whatever you got paid for your last job? Add 25 percent for your basic wage and we'll talk about risk payments per job later. What do you think?"

Kalina couldn't help but whistle. "I think that's rather a good deal" she admitted.

_But working for Scorpia?_

Money had always been her motto. Anything for money. Idealism for her didn't matter, to a point. She wouldn't like to go around blowing up children or stealing from charities but apart from that…

"We also have a very competitive pension plan" Lightfoot said. Kalina chuckled.

"I can imagine that" she said, thinking of 90-year-old ex-assassins on a Spanish beach resort owned by Scorpia. "I don't want to get involved in your idealistic campaigns though" she stipulated. "I mean, a job is a job. I don't want to take it home with me"

"Of course, I completely understand" Lightfoot said. "We have militant activists for that kind of thing. I can tell you now that your role would be one you are accustomed to. Thievery, subterfuge, spying… that kind of thing. You would not be expected to share our aims, although if you were to betray us in _any_ way, shape or form, rest assured you will be dealt with ever so firmly." The man's tone was light but the message was clear.

"In that case…" Kalina said slowly, a host of options suddenly opening up before her. "I accept your offer. That is, if all terms of my contract are agreeable"

Lightfoot smiled genially, his grey face taking on some colour. "Excellent" he said. "I can draw up some sort of contract if you wish. Normally we just start paying our people and kill them if they go AWOL…"

"Well, whichever you think best…" Kalina's heart was still pounding. This was all so polite and British, yet she'd just signed her life away to one of the world's most infamous terrorist organisations.

Lightfoot stood and Kalina followed suit. They shook hands.

"Now, you must be exhausted. I am afraid I haven't had time to arrange lodgings for you, but there is another house you can use for a few days. Yassen will be joining you there, I imagine. His house, after all, is beyond repair…"

Kalina's heart skipped. "Gregorovich?" she said. Lightfoot opened the door.

"Yes…ah, here he is now. Yassen…"

Gregorovich stood in the corridor. He held out his hand, and Lightfoot took the disc from him.

"Thank you. I've just been recruiting Miss. Moon here"

Yassen looked at her curiously. "Oh?"

"Yes. Take her to Redwood will you? You _are_ going there?"

"…Yes…" Gregorovich was still staring at Kalina, his expression unfathomable.

"I'll call you in a few days. I suspect you both need some downtime." Lightfoot clasped his hands and looked at them both. "Right, well, off you go"

After a moment's pause, Gregorovich turned and walked off down the corridor. Kalina glanced at Lightfoot, then hurried after him. It amazed her they'd been thrown together again so soon, and made her chest tighten uncomfortably. What on _earth _could she possibly say to him?

* * *

Yassen could not _believe_ the girl was coming with him. Had a _right_ to go with him, in fact, since she apparently now worked for Scorpia. Inwardly, he fumed.

He had no idea what had passed between them at Patel's house. He had felt something, yes, but he didn't like to identify it. All that effort to get her back and for what? She had pushed him away.

_Yassen!_ his inner voice hissed. _You tried something you knew wouldn't work and felt upset when it didn't. Ha. Ha. _

Had he really felt upset? No…there had been a rebuttal, and he had backed down.

_Did she rebuke me? She pulled away but I should not have touched her…_

Why try and ruin something before it had even begun? They were barely even friends.

_I have no friends…_

But he'd wanted to save her.

_What is she to me?_

What could she _become_ to him?

_I have no need for such things…_

But Yassen knew that men needed women. It was a fact of life as cold and hard as his own handgun. Was it so terrible to think that he could want a woman too?

_I have wanted women before…_

But not like this.

_We connect, yes… but that means nothing._

Unless you want it to…

_I do not want it to…_

"Look, Gregorovich…" Kalina's voice made him glance down at her in annoyance. He vaguely noticed that she had called him by his first name for a brief few hours. "I'm sorry about…well, everything" the girl was saying. "I…I mean…I think we may have got off on the wrong foot"

"What do you mean?" Yassen snapped. He hoped to god she wasn't going to mention what had happened to them in her cell.

"Well, we were enemies. And then we didn't know where we stood. But now I work for Scorpia, I suppose…"

"Suppose? You either work for them or you don't." Yassen kept his voice strict and saw the girl scowl.

"Yes but…look, Gregorovich" she stopped, and he stopped too with an air of impatience. "Thank you, for saving me"

He almost rolled his eyes. Kalina blushed and looked at the carpet.

"I think we should start again, if that's possible"

Yassen scoffed. "Is it? Is it possible when you strung me along, got yourself captured and…and…"

Kalina raised an eyebrow and he trailed off.

_And made me think you wanted me to kiss you?_

"What is done is done" he said simply. "Now are you coming or not?"

He turned his back on her and stalked off up the stairs to the roof and a waiting helicopter. Kalina sighed deeply and followed. So much for clearing the air. She couldn't even mention what had happened and all of Gregorovich's shutters had come down. He was like a closed book to her now. One written in Greek. Kalina felt ashamed, guilty, and angry, all at the same time.

_This is why I never bother with men_ she fumed as she hurried across the helipad.

But then, Gregorovich was hardly an ordinary man.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven

* * *

**

Redwood, nestled in the mountains of central Europe, was heaven after the past few days. It was architecturally something between a French chateau and a Bohemian castle, with turrets and gothic windows and a huge arched gateway leading to a small central courtyard before the main house. It teetered on a hillside overlooking a placid lake, and snow-capped mountains rolled down towards it, trees and meadow grasses clinging to the lower slopes. From the helicopter, Kalina gasped in delight.

Yassen scowled in return.

The chopper landed carefully in the courtyard, much to Kalina's horror. She was convinced the space wasn't big enough, and with thick stone walls rearing up on all sides as they descended, she found herself gripping her seat and fighting the urge to whimper. When no grinding noise of helicopter blades snapping off occurred, she sighed and undid her seatbelt, glancing at Gregorovich. He was sat to her left against the door, his hand already opening it as soon as they touched down. This time he didn't wait to help her down; instead, he jumped lightly out and stalked off towards the front door without a backward glance. Even though she rankled at being helped on account of her gender, Kalina wished he'd shown some old-fashioned chivalry just then. It was obvious he still disliked her.

* * *

Gregorovich lifted the heavy knocker of the oak door, but it opened before he could let it fall. A youngish man gazed out at him, then broke into a confident grin. 

"Gregorovich!" The man was tanned, blonde and athletic, about the same height as Yassen, with clear brown eyes and American-white teeth. Yassen vaguely remembered him being French, but he wasn't entirely sure. His name was Charles, he was another Scorpia agent and his speciality was subterfuge. He was an excellent mole and confidence trickster; the kind of person who always played a role. So much so that Yassen never knew if he was talking to the real man or just one of his many façades.

"Good to see you, what are you doing here?" Charles continued, holding out a hand and opening the door wide.

"Same as always" Yassen replied, taking the proffered palm. "Lying low"

Charles nodded understanding. "Me too. Who's this?"

Kalina had caught up and looked Charles up and down calculatingly. She smiled apprehensively and got a wide grin in return.

"Kalina Moon" Yassen said simply. "New agent"

He stepped past Charles, ignoring the noise of surprise and pleasure the blonde man made as he took Kalina's hand and kissed it.

"Come in, come in! My name is Charles de la Coeur, also of Scorpia…" he ushered, and Yassen heard small steps following him into the hallway.

"Will you take your usual room Gregorovich?" Charles called after a disappearing Russian. When no reply came he shrugged and turned to the woman.

"We'll have to find a room for you too" he said with a charming smile. "Which would you prefer, a view of the courtyard or a view of the lake?"

"The lake, please" Kalina said, smiling despite herself. The hall was lofty and cool, with tapestries on the wall and dark benches against the walls. Doors opened off it to mysterious rooms, and two staircases led to upper floors straight ahead. It was like something out of a fairytale, and the man who had greeted her so enthusiastically was certainty attractive. Things had suddenly started to look up; she'd envisaged being stuck alone with Gregorovich in uncomfortable silence for days on end. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all.

"This way then"

Charles led the way up the right-hand staircase and along a red-carpeted corridor. "Those stairs lead up into the turret" he said as they passed a narrow staircase. "Good view from up there. I think…yes, this one should do." He opened a door with a flourish and motioned Kalina inside.

"Wow" she breathed.

There was a four-poster bed, bay window complete with window seat, and a large fireplace on one wall. Beyond the window the lake sparkled enticingly. Kalina stepped up to the glass.

"Can I swim in the lake?" she asked as Charles came to stand next to her. He smiled and nodded.

"Yes. I go for a swim every morning. You're welcome to join me"

"I might just do that. Are there many Scorpia agents here?"

Charles shook his head. "Just myself at the moment. Of course, more may turn up, but as a rule not many agents use Redwood. It's more of a hotel than a safehouse and only certain people are given access. Lightfoot thinks it should be stayed in only by those who appreciate it."

"I see…"

"There's a butler around here somewhere if you need anything" Charles continued. "My room is just down the hall, the one next to the painting of Count von Bismarck"

"And…erm…Gregorovich's room?"

Charles raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. "In the east wing…that's up the other staircase from the hallway."

"Ah…"

Silence fell for a few seconds, then Charles cleared his throat. "How about a tour?"

Kalina smiled and tried to relax. "That would be great."

She followed him out of the room, listened to his easy banter and laughed at his jokes. He was good company, saying the right things to draw her out of herself and let her guard down, making her comfortable in his company. At the back of her mind however, Kalina couldn't help wondering what Yassen was doing at that moment, if he was friends with Charles and would join them at some point, or if her very presence would keep him away. If she should do anything to try and approach him, or just leave well alone.

* * *

Yassen liked Redwood. He liked its peaceful, spectacular location; the ancient grandeur of its rooms; the history which permeated every wall. It was a pity it was all so impersonal. It felt to him like someone else's house, which indeed it was. He could never feel entirely at home there, surrounded by the heirlooms of another dynasty. 

He wondered if he'd ever see any of his artworks again, the ones that were in his safehouse. They didn't mean much to him but he'd chosen them all and it would be a shame to have wasted that much money.

As he sank into an overstuffed armchair in one of the well-appointed living rooms at the back of the chateau, Yassen felt a strange kind of relief that Charles was present at Redwood. Although he hadn't always connected with the man, he was inoffensive company and would probably take Kalina off his hands. Charles enjoyed women; unlike Yassen, he seemed to have a way with them. All the Russian would have to do for the next few days was relax and enjoy the wine cellar, library, and walks in the surrounding woods. The chateau was so big that he need never see the woman the entire time. Yassen allowed himself a contented sigh as he stretched his legs out before him. He had let himself get too involved in this particular case, and it wasn't even over yet. Soon enough Lightfoot would call with further instructions, and Yassen would have to be ready once again to do whatever was required. He needed to clear his mind and prepare himself, with no distractions. Kalina might not even be working with him again, ever. They may never have to have another uncomfortable conversation...

_May never be able to put things right…_ Yassen's inner voice reminded him. He shook his head. There was nothing to put right. He didn't really care. Missions came first, personal relationships a far distant second and that had always been the way of things.

_So she was…what? A blip?_

Yes, a blip. A girl he'd looked twice at, a girl he'd happily spend a night with, but one who came at too high a price.

_I do not need emotional involvement, and anything beyond simple acquaintance with Kalina would bring more entanglement than I could bear._

And that was that.

* * *

A/N: I've broken the 10-chapter-barrier, wooo! Look at my other stories and you'll realise I haven't managed that before... I hope you still like the story, please review and let me know.

**Chalice Blackbird** has made some wallpapers for this story (they are really excellent!) and they can be found on her homepage. Just check out her profile for the link. If you like Serenity (and who doesn't?) you'll love her homepage. Thank you Chalice Blackbird!


	12. Interlude

**Interlude

* * *

**

In a clinical room somewhere near the city, a man picked up a phone from a black cradle and made a call. There was silence for almost half a minute before he replaced the receiver. He frowned in puzzlement and concern.

"Number unobtainable"

"Shit, we're too late"

"What now?"

"Pinpoint the phone"

A long silence, punctuated by the clack of computer keys.

"No signal."

"What about the tracker?"

"I'll check… that's odd"

"What, man?"

"Up in the mountains. How the hell did she get up there?"

"Not Patel's house?"

"No. I've no idea what's at these co-ordinates"

"So Patel doesn't have her…who the hell does? Let's send someone to pick up the phone…"

"You think she's dead?"

"Maybe. Even if she isn't we've fucked up getting the disc. I knew we should have arranged a drop sooner, damnit"

"It's not Patel though. And Moon's not stupid, she'll have got rid of it…"

"No way of knowing"

"So what do we do?"

Another silence. A deep breath.

"Get the phone first, hopefully Moon's with it. I'll get someone onto Patel, see what he's up to. He might give us a clue"

A chair was pushed back, someone stood.

"Very well. I'll tell the boss. If we've lost that disc, we're in deep shit"

* * *

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, please keep it up...it keeps me going! I know you were all wondering what had become of Kalina's old employers (Chalice Blackbird...ahem...) so I thought it about time the Interlude got posted!


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

So why did it irk him the next morning when he came down from his bedroom to see Charles and Kalina sat together in the morning room, just finishing breakfast and chatting together comfortably? They had their backs to the door, probably weren't even aware of his passing, let alone the fact that he paused before moving on. Charles was leaning towards the woman, saying something which made her smile. Yassen could see the curve of her neck and lips, the glass of juice poised halfway to her mouth. Then he was past the room and on his way out, resisting the urge to slam the front door behind him. That would be childish. 

He decided that a strenuous walk would clear his head and set off purposefully towards the lake.

Alone with his thoughts, Yassen was able to clear his head and centre himself. He'd had a good night's sleep; he was absolutely exhausted after the trials of the day before and despite such whirling thoughts his body had dragged him into welcome unconsciousness. Now he felt rested and more at ease with what had happened. Soon he'd be able to put it all behind him. Detachment was an assassin's best friend.

* * *

After breakfast Charles suggested a walk up the mountain. 

"The view from up there is amazing" he enthused. "You'll love it"

Kalina smiled. Charles seemed to be enthusiastic about everything. Even though she'd gone to bed early so had only been in his company for a few hours the afternoon before, she felt completely at ease with him. Not like Gregorovich where she felt she was treading on eggshells.

"I'm not really up for a hike…" she warned. They were still in the breakfast room, sprawled in comfortable chairs and digesting happily. Charles waved a hand.

"I'll take you an easy way. It's only about a mile. We can go slow, take a picnic…some wine, whatever…"

Kalina raised an eyebrow. This all sounded rather romantic. Charles caught her look and laughed.

"It's not everyday I get to spend with a lovely young woman. Sorry if I'm coming on a bit strong"

His smile was so disarming she couldn't help returning it. "It's ok…" she said. "These past few days have been so mad I'm just having trouble…adjusting. I can't get my head round being here yet"

"I know what you mean. Believe me"

Charles' tone was light but his look said everything. He was a Scorpia agent too; of course he met with danger just like Kalina had. Like everyone who spent any time at Redwood. They all had to go from risking their lives one day to eating breakfast in luxurious surroundings with their every whim catered for the next. It was a crazy life but one they'd all signed up for.

_And to think I just used to go home after a mission _Kalina thought, imagining her small apartment in Vienna where she retired after doing a job. She lived an almost-normal life there; going to the supermarket, meeting her few friends for drinks and nights out, taking walks in the park…

_I wonder if I'll ever get to go back there? Things will have to be taken care of, at least, All my clothes, books…the rent will have to be paid next week…_

"So, how about it?" Charles asked. He looked expectant.

"Erm…sure, why not" Kalina said and stood up. "I'll just go and get changed"

When she came back down from her room Charles was waiting in the hallway with a small hamper. He was dressed in a light blue sweater, cream chinos and tan leather shoes. Kalina thought he looked exactly like an Ivy-League graduate with his blonde hair side-parted in a college-boy style. She wore linen trousers and a Thomas Pink blouse she'd found in her wardrobe. Surprisingly, in the time it had taken to eat a continental breakfast, the house staff had managed to populate her wardrobe with about a dozen different outfits all in her size. They were all particularly good labels too; the blouse alone must have cost close to £100.

"What's in the hamper?" she asked as she skipped lightly down the stairs. The new clothes had really lifted her mood and she was ready for a day of fun and relaxation. Charles shrugged.

"Chef made some sandwiches…chocolate éclairs…wine…"

"Mmm…sounds good. I think I'm going to like it here"

"Glad to hear it. Let's go"

He held open the front door and they stepped out into the sunshine. The courtyard was still half in shadow but the sky was blue with just a few scudding clouds. It was going to be a lovely day. Beyond the walls of Redwood the mountainside climbed upwards, a tall swathe of green with clusters of dark pines. Charles pointed off to the left.

"See that tree-line? There's a meadow up there, that's where we're heading"

"A meadow? On the mountainside?"

"Yep. I've heard they put cows in it sometimes"

"If you say so…"

"You'll see. The track's this way"

He led the way through the archway and out onto the dust road. Several tracks branched off it into the undergrowth, which was made up of wildflowers and grasses rather than weeds and thorns. Some were steep and bent quickly out of sight, but Charles chose one which sloped on a gentle curve around the mountain. Even so, Kalina was glad she wasn't carrying the hamper.

_There are some advantages to men I suppose_ she mused as she followed the tall man along the path. She found herself surreptitiously checking him out and wondering how he compared with Gregorovich.

_Not that I noticed anything about _**that **_man…_ she told herself, knowing at the same time that she blatantly **had** noticed that Gregorovich was tall and strong and…

_Stop it! Look at Charles, look what a nice behind he has! Look how it…_

Charles began to turn his head and Kalina snapped her eyes upwards.

"Lovely day isn't it?"

"…Yes…yes it is…" Kalina blushed, struggled to find something to say. Luckily Charles proved once again he was excellent company, by telling a story of a time he'd hiked up the mountain the year before with a certain agent who'd been afraid of heights but neglected to admit it till they were almost at the top, balanced on a precipitous path with no way off but to keep going.

"I had to tie myself to him and practically drag him the rest of the way. He had his eyes closed the whole time. And to think, Scorpia actually puts him in the field. I had it written into my contract never to work with him!"

The morning passed in much the same way, with Charles being charming and Kalina enjoying herself. She even found herself telling him funny stories about things she'd done or that had happened to her, and experienced a flush of pleasure when she made him laugh. It was so long since she'd had such a good connection with anyone. By the time they reached the meadow, which was beautiful, nestled on the mountainside like an oasis, they were both hungry and sat down on the grass to a scrumptious snack, mostly of éclairs and wine. A long rest and slow walk back found them entering Redwood just as the afternoon was fading towards evening.

* * *

Kalina looked forward to a cool drink and a shower, and after a "do you want a drink?" to Charles, started to head towards the kitchen. She was barely halfway across the hall when Yassen Gregorovich appeared in a doorway. 

"Kalina? I need to speak with you"

His voice was level, expression giving nothing away. Kalina glanced at Charles, who had paused on his way to the morning room.

"What about?" she said. Yassen's eyes narrowed slightly.

"I've had a phone call from Scorpia. It concerns you. Come with me"

He turned and went back through the doorway. Charles shrugged.

"I'll see you later?" He smiled sympathetically.

"Yeah…" Kalina sighed. "See you later"

Just when the day had been going so well. What could Scorpia want so soon? Lightfoot had said it would be a few days before they heard from him. Perhaps something had gone wrong. Kalina found butterflies emerging in her stomach; she couldn't think of anything she'd done and surely Yassen would be angry if she really had done something wrong…

She stepped through the doorway into a kind of drawing room with stately furniture and large dark paintings on the walls. Gregorovich sat in the middle of a long sofa, and Kalina took a chair opposite, not wanting to meet his gaze but forcing herself to. He was studying her openly, which made her very uncomfortable.

"What is it?" she said, a little more harshly than she'd meant to. Gregorovich's brows drew together slightly.

_I'm sorry, did I interrupt your day?_ He thought.

"Lightfoot has sent us a warning" he said calmly instead. "It seems your previous employers have been sniffing around Patel's mansion. They know he was looking for the disc. They also know Scorpia was there. They traced your phone back to my safehouse."

Kalina blanched. _Shit! I should have known I'd have to deal with them sooner or later…_

What with all that had gone on she'd almost forgotten that she'd had a job to do. She'd been paid half her money to get the disc, with the other half to come once she made the drop. Only the drop had never happened; she'd been waiting on the call from her employers when Gregorovich had caught up with her.

"Do you think they know I…"

"Led us to the disc? Probably. At least, we have to assume they do. They will not be so charitable as to assume you were forced to hand it over against your will. Either you have already given it to us, or you are under torture to reveal the location. Either way, they will want you dead"

"Oh…"

"Yes. Lightfoot says they do not yet know you are now in Scorpia's employ, but they probably soon will do. Fortunately, you should be safe here. I have been instructed to keep you that way until the situation can be resolved"

Kalina felt a flood of relief. "That's alright then…I just stay here until this all blows over"

"That is correct"

Kalina put her hands on her knees and stood up with a sigh.

"Where are you going?" Gregorovich's voice was commanding.

"Erm…to get a drink?"

_Why is he looking at me like that?_ Kalina wondered.

"You are to go nowhere without telling me first. I am not to let you out of my protection"

Kalina stared at the Russian in disbelief. "_What_?"

"Do not leave Redwood without my permission. I must know your whereabouts at all times" Gregorovich scowled. "I do not like it either but that is the way it must be"

"You're kidding me…"

"I do not kid!" he snapped. Kalina flinched. He must hate this as much as she did. He stood up from the sofa and looked down at her, expression stern.

"Like it or _not_ Miss. Moon, we will be spending a lot more time together"

Kalina opened her mouth but couldn't think of anything to say. The safe and happy holiday she'd been building in her mind for the next few days crumbled around her. Gregorovich, scowling, replaced it.

"I'm going to go to the kitchen and get a drink" she said at length, enunciating carefully. "Then, I'm going to go to my room and have a shower. Will you be needing to join me?" She raised an eyebrow. Yassen's lips smiled but his eyes remained cold.

"No" he said. "Just let me know when you return"

"Fine"

Kalina turned sharply and stalked from the room, feeling Gregorovich's eyes on her back the whole way.

* * *

A/N: Guess they can't get away from each other that easily... Please review!


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Fourteen

* * *

**

Yassen was pissed off. There was no other word for it. Just when he'd started to think that he would be able to relax, when he was gathering his thoughts and getting into his normal cool, calm frame of mind, Lightfoot had broken the spell.

The butler waiting at the doorway had been a dubious sign, when Yassen returned from his walk in the early afternoon.

"Mr. Gregorovich?" The butler's tone was one of easy subservience; he probably had no idea what any of his houseguests got up to in their everyday lives. He didn't fear Yassen one bit, and that made Yassen like Redwood. Here, he felt normal. Affluent and privileged, but normal.

"Yes?" he had replied, something inside him sinking.

"A call for you, urgent. They said to call back as soon as you returned"

Scorpia, then.

Yassen had followed the butler into a small sitting room where a telephone was waiting. The butler even dialled the number, leaving discreetly as the line rang. It was answered promptly, by Lightfoot himself.

"Yassen?"

So he had been expected. Lightfoot was one of a very few people who called him by his first name.

"Yes" Yassen kept his voice low and controlled. He was the picture of calm, readiness. Inside he wanted to laugh, or shout. Anything but pretend that he wasn't affected by what was sure to come. There was only one reason to be contacted so soon; something had gone wrong and he would have to pick up the pieces. Or limit damage.

Yassen hated damage limitation. No, _hate_ was a strong word. Yassen didn't feel hatred towards anything; such a strong emotion was alien to him. He _disliked_ damage limitation. Found it _distasteful._ _Below_ him. He was a man of action, not reaction.

But now he was being asked to react to something out of his control.

"They are searching for her" Lightfoot had said. "They know we are involved. It's only a matter of time before they work out she's still alive, and that we have her. They will want her dead"

And then, those most fateful of words;

"You must protect her"

_Why me?_ Yassen said in his head. It was with some discomfort he realised he'd spoken out loud.

"Well, old man, because you're _there…"_ Lightfoot's answer sounded obvious from the older man's mouth. Yassen _was_ there. He knew Kalina, as far as it was possible to know someone in just a few days. He was more responsible for her than anyone else. She was his charge now, like it or not.

Unlike the last time he'd taken her under her wing, this time he was being ordered to do it. And Yassen didn't much like it.

He followed orders, always. Sometimes he didn't like what he had to do, but he knew that he worked for Scorpia, and Scorpia's goals were worth his distaste, or revulsion, or whatever unpleasant emotion he happened to be feeling. Now, he didn't feel unpleasant, exactly. He felt…

Discomfited.

_Like the rug is being pulled from beneath my feet…_

It was rare Yassen Gregorovich analysed himself. Now he did it tentatively, but believingly. He knew his own findings were correct. He felt lost on a sea partly of his own making. Like he'd launched himself into the depths only to regret it, but dragged further down by undercurrents and whirlpools.

Replacing the telephone gently, Yassen fought the urge to put his head in his hands.

_The universe is conspiring against me!_ A rare exclamation of futility rose to the surface. He groaned out loud and brushed his face with his hands, rubbing out… what? Despair? Dejection?

Resistance was futile. Yassen had been given orders, and he had no choice but to carry them through. He sighed, stood, and left the small room to enquire after the girl and Charles. He knew they would be safe together; it was incredibly unlikely anything would happen within the next few hours, but as soon as they returned he'd have to let them know the change in circumstances.

As much as Yassen wanted to palm Kalina off onto Charles, he wouldn't trust Charles with her life. As he waited patiently in the hallway for them to return, he wondered why he would even trust himself.

* * *

And when she'd returned, looking at him with those blue-grey eyes, the smile Charles had put on her face fading when she saw him. Making his own emerging attempt at a pleasant facial expression wither like a dead flower. She was defiant, angry. She felt exactly like he did when he saw her. But knowing that it would achieve nothing, Yassen had to take the higher ground.

_Be reasonable_ he told himself. _Stay calm…_

But it was difficult. She was accusing, almost as if he'd engineered the whole thing just to annoy her.

_Well, Miss. Moon… I don't exactly relish your company either_ he wanted to say. To shout. To grab her by the arms and shake her out of that disdain… That disdain that had come from nowhere.

_What have I ever done to you? Opened myself to you, misread the signs and now I'm what? An annoyance? Something you'd rather forget?_

Well tough.

And the ways he spoke to him. Sarcastic. Challenging.

Would he like to join her in the shower?

…

He knew some primeval part of himself said yes, emphatically yes, and it only made things worse.

_She is not worth the effort… the universe is playing a cosmic joke and all I can do is endure it. Endurance…I should know._

As the girl left the room…_stalked_ from the room, Yassen glared after her. He recognised pique in himself, a childish desire to play games to annoy her as much as she'd annoyed him, and just hated himself all the more for losing control. What the hell was wrong with him anyway?

It was a question he wanted to ignore.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the shortness. My last update until after i've moved into my new flat. I'm moving to London in two days, it's going to be hectic for a while until i get sorted out...don't even have the internet installed yet! Private sector renting is always so much fun... Anyway, that was a little bit of Yassen's psyche... more to come!


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fifteen**

**

* * *

**

After her shower Kalina came downstairs, attracted by the smells of cooking. She followed them through several rooms before she found herself in a long dining room dominated by a huge dark table. Like the rest of Redwood, it was decorated in a medieval, almost feudal manner, with big dark paintings on the walls and complex-patterned heavy rugs across the floorboards. It would have been cosy and inviting despite the slight draft from an empty fireplace, except for one thing. Gregorovich was sitting at one of just two place settings, obviously waiting for her.

He stood slightly as she entered, striking her with his ingrained politeness even though he probably hated her guts.

_Still a gentleman…_she thought wryly, then quickly banished the thought in case the Russian should detect any mockery on her face. If he wanted to play politeness, so could she.

"Yassen" she said levelly, nodding at him in greeting and taking the spare seat opposite. She shifted its heavy weight up to the table and regarded her setting. Silver service, of course. Enough for four courses. Kalina swallowed hard at the thought of sitting with Gregorovich for four courses.

"Where is Charles?" she said, not just to break the silence. She honestly wished he were there.

Gregorovich hadn't been looking at the woman; he wanted to fulfil his duties as uneventfully as possible. Just because he had to keep an eye on her round the clock didn't mean he had to practice his conversational skills. He shrugged almost laconically. "I do not know. He said he had business to attend to"

Kalina's eyes narrowed.

_I bet you warned him off…_

She was surprised to find herself slightly upset that Charles had abandoned her. And slightly angry at Gregorovich for making him. As if the assassin could decide what she did or who she saw…

But then, dragging her around the city and to his safehouse in the hills, that was exactly what he'd been doing, and she knew he was perfectly capable of doing it again. How did he manage to look so comfortable in a situation she found excruciating? Kalina wanted to squirm in her seat; Yassen looked like he was about to take out a pipe or perhaps have a nap before the fish course arrived.

Of course, Yassen's outward demeanour and his inward thoughts didn't have to correlate. He was relieved when a small door opened and the butler arrived with their food. Eating would make the silence less obvious. If he could look at his food he wouldn't have to look at _her…_

"Are we to eat together every night?" she asked now, tone light and innocent. Yassen nodded, keeping his face expressionless.

"And every morning. And afternoon" he replied.

"What about if I want a midnight snack?"

"You are to ask me first" Yassen said sternly. He knew she was playing a game, trying to get a rise out of him. He would play too if that was how she wanted it.

"You are to report to me at 8 o'clock sharp every morning" he continued, "so I know you have survived the night"

Kalina's slender eyebrow rose fractionally. "Of course" she said flatly. "Would you also like me to come and say goodnight?"

"Yes. I will check your bedroom before you go to sleep"

Yassen was beginning to enjoy his food. He felt he was needling her for once. Kalina was pushing a piece of fish around her plate with a fork.

"And I'm afraid there will be no more walks with Monsieur de la Coeur" Yassen went on, almost managing to sound apologetic. "Should you wish for exercise, I will accompany you"

Kalina's lips pursed as she stared at her plate. Yassen smiled the first real smile he'd managed all day.

"Gregorovich?" she said after a long silence. He waited. "What was on that disc?"

"Why?" Yassen said before thinking. It was the last question he'd expected her to ask; changing the subject away from her persecution. He felt suddenly wrong-footed.

_Misdirection!_ his brain shouted. Kalina shrugged.

"I just wondered what all the fuss was about, why so many people want it"

So it was a genuine question after all. No room for making her uncomfortable here either, unless…

"I do not know" Yassen said. Kalina met his gaze.

"Yes you do. You know _everything"_

Sarcasm? Probably. Still;

"Yes" he replied. "I do. The disc contains information from the U.S. Military, details of a new weapon, to be precise. Unfortunately for them, someone inside the military leaked the data in the form of a protected disc. It was meant to be sold to the Russians but somehow ended up in Peter Klunt's hands. He was willing to sell it to the highest bidder. That is where Scorpia and your employers come in. Patel wanted it for free."

"The disc is protected?"

"It cannot be copied. There are no more leaks from the U.S. Military either. They do not know it is still in circulation, not for sure."

"What kind of weapon is it?"

Now Yassen felt like he was being drawn into saying too much. He just gazed at the girl instead. She sighed.

"I'm not hungry. I think I'll go and watch some television"

_Anything to get away from this mind-numbing dinner…_

"Do not go far" Yassen reminded her. "I will join you shortly"

He was beginning to realise a way to assuage his own anger and discomfort at his behaviour towards Kalina. Get her back. And no matter how confused and unsettled her proximity made him feel, it seemed to unsettle her a lot more. Revenge, sometimes, could be a cure, and even though Yassen wished he had enough control not to play petty mind games, he knew at that particular moment that he didn't. He would be childish and vindictive and make Kalina as uncomfortable as she had made him. Having the upper hand felt wickedly satisfying.

Of course, he'd also keep her alive. But in a hell of his own choosing.

* * *

A/N: Retaliation! Thank you everyone who always reviews, it really helps me keep writing! I now live alarmingly close to a prison, i get to hear sirens all hours, and share a front door with 7 other flats. Not to mention feeding and clothing myself. All for the _bargainous_ price of one hundred pounds a week (bursts into tears). How character-building university is!


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

**

* * *

**

Three days. Three long, uncomfortable, annoying, terrible days since Yassen had insisted on watching Kalina's every move. She felt like she was in a goldfish bowl; she could barely even sneeze without Gregorovich wanting to know about it in advance. Any resolution she'd had to take this new situation gracefully disappeared the first night, when Yassen had accompanied her to her bedroom, checked all the nooks and crannies, and decided it wouldn't do. She would have to move.

The rooms he chose for them had a connecting door, which he left unlocked. Closed, but unlocked. Kalina spent half the night staring at that door, practically able to sense the man on the other side. It was such a little thing – she still had some privacy after all, but that single door, with Gregorovich just the other side, drove her crazy.

Now, in the three days that followed, she had snapped, grouched and sunk into grim silences one after the other in a kind of emotional loop. Gregorovich, of course, remained calm all through her moods, the look in his eyes saying that he didn't really care; he was just doing his job. And that infuriated her even more.

Charles offered some respite, since the Russian didn't seem to mind her talking to him. She could almost, _almost_ ignore Gregorovich when Charles was around. He sensed her discomfort and annoyance and always tried to cheer her up. Gregorovich would even go away for an hour or two if they were firmly ensconced in a living room and didn't look like they were going anywhere. Kalina felt more and more warmth towards the American, especially in contrast to her feelings for the assassin. Charles was a respite, and an incredibly welcome one at that.

* * *

On the third morning, Charles found them finishing breakfast at opposite sides of the morning room. Kalina sulked openly, and Yassen looked like he hadn't a care in the world. Charles wondered at the man's emotional strength – in the face of a woman's moods he wasn't sure he could bear up so well. Gregorovich almost seemed to be relishing it. He nodded to Charles, who smiled back.

"Morning, all" he said. Kalina looked up and her face transformed into a bright smile. Charles walked over to her and sat in the next chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I have a day off, want to do something?"

Kalina practically glared over at Gregorovich, who innocently began to read a newspaper. "That would be nice" she said. "If I can…what did you have in mind?"

Charles smiled easily. "Oh, I don't know. There are no restaurants, bars, theatres, nothing I can impress you with. How about a trip on the lake?"

Kalina smiled at him. Charles had been so sweet over the past few days, she wished he was the one following her every move. "That would be lovely" she said. "Gregorovich?"

"Hmm?" The Russian looked up, as if he hadn't heard their conversation.

"May I go with Charles on the lake?"

Kalina's voice had an edge to it. She knew she had to ask him before doing anything, but _he_ knew she hated it. It was almost like a pantomime between them; both behaving civilly but with their own thoughts simmering beneath the surface. Infuriatingly, Yassen's always seemed to be calm and happy. He affected to think about the proposition, whilst Kalina drummed her fingers on her knee.

"Yes" he said at length. "When are you going?"

"Now?" Charles asked. Yassen nodded.

"Be back by lunchtime. 1 o'clock sharp"

"Four whole hours!" Kalina exclaimed, standing up and grabbing a jacket from the back of her chair. "You're getting lax, Gregorovich"

Charles stood too and followed the woman across the room. Yassen was gazing at her levelly.

"If you would prefer, return by 12" he said flatly. Kalina scowled and increased her pace.

"One is _fine_!"

Yassen looked at Charles and smiled conspiratorially. The man was genuinely amused, as much as it was possible for the cold assassin to be amused by anything. Charles shook his head and left the room, putting a hand on Kalina's shoulder in a comforting gesture. She leant into him as they walked across the hall and out of the mansion.

* * *

"Are you ok?" Charles asked, concern lacing his voice. They were almost halfway to the lake and Kalina hadn't said a word, just walked along with his arm round her shoulder. She reached up and pulled it tighter now, slipping an arm up his back to squeeze him before letting go of both. She sighed heavily.

"Yeah, it's just getting to me. I thought I could handle Gregorovich bugging me 24 hours a day… but I really can't"

Charles looked down at her. "You two really don't get on do you?"

"I thought we did" Kalina replied. "He's just so… infuriating. He never lets you in, if you know what I mean…"

"He's an assassin, he's not meant to"

Kalina laughed slightly. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I shouldn't even expect anything from him. He saved my life but I'd rather be anywhere else but with him right now."

"You are" Charles assured her. "You're with me"

Kalina looked up and smiled, the first genuine smile of the day. Charles always made her feel better. This was their first real physical contact; that first picnic up on the mountain they hadn't shied away from each other but there was no real touching either. Now his arm felt comfortable, and the hug she'd given him wasn't awkward or too forward; it just felt right. "Now why couldn't Scorpia have put you in charge of me?" she wondered aloud. Charles grinned.

"They don't know the situation on the ground. Anyway, I think I might be called away soon. Scorpia will know when"

Kalina's face fell and she looked down. "Oh…"

Now why did she feel so sad all of a sudden? Kalina had been on an emotional rollercoaster since stealing that disc; she knew it and she knew that any reactions she had now were the product of what had gone before. The danger, almost being killed and then saved by Gregorovich, what had conspired between them and then the hostility which remained, and now meeting Charles who was perfectly handsome and charming and wanting so much to get away from the Russian…

_I have a crush! _she thought, half in exasperation and half in defiance. _I'm a bloody adult and I have a bloody crush! But you know what? I don't care!_

Kalina felt like having some fun and feeling good about herself and sticking two fingers up at Gregorovich. Charles was perfect for all of those things.

"We've still got today though, right?" she said, smiling again. Charles dropped his arm to her waist and smiled back.

"We certainly do"

* * *

A/N: Thank you all my reviewers! I've been in my flat a week now and uni's just getting started. So far so good. I made the mistake of going to Camden at the weekend...it was HEAVING. I knew there was a reason i only go in the week! If you're ever in London and doing the tourist thing, avoid the Camden on a weekend...seriously...


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